


E4SE

by baekyeolangst



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:22:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 27,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21543703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baekyeolangst/pseuds/baekyeolangst
Summary: “Ah, really. Chanyeol doesn’t exactly know how to explain to his blind husband that he has fallen out of love.”
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun/Park Chanyeol
Comments: 21
Kudos: 161





	1. Sleepless Night

**Author's Note:**

> After almost 5 years of writing this fic on AFF, I've finally decided to post it on AO3 too.  
> Please give *E4SE some love! This fic is not for the faint-hearted.
> 
> *For anyone who is confused by the fic title, E4SE stands for Eyes For Someone Else.

If there was ever a list of one’s disabilities in life, Baekhyun’s list would be stated on a full-paged paper, front and back.

Having lost his eye-sight for about 4 years now, Baekhyun has done nothing but mistakes. His favorite hobby was to cook, though now all he does in the kitchen is groping around counters and struggling to even find the kitchen sink. If one would think in the midst of four years being blind, Baekhyun would have gotten used to his surroundings and the darkness — they were wrong. Baekhyun, sometimes, could not even walk properly without knocking over glasses.

If there was ever a list of one’s disabilities in life, Chanyeol’s list would have been empty.

Baekhyun’s husband, a tall and attractive lawyer from a steady firm, has been with him for 5 years — although Baekhyun only spent a year of seeing his face, he had always known that his husband is a catcher. Chanyeol had chosen to stay by his sight despite his disability to see. From then on, Baekhyun spends his days thanking Chanyeol for doing so. 

Without his husband, where else would Baekhyun go?

But now that Baekhyun has been thinking about it — they weren’t exactly husbands anymore. They’re married, but their definition of a marriage doesn’t exactly make sense in Baekhyun’s mind anymore; they talk, they communicate, Chanyeol comes back later than ever and Baekhyun waits for him by the door like a desperate dog. 

The term “making love” no longer exists in their marriage. Of course, Chanyeol still kisses him – the sweet, loving kisses that Baekhyun savors during the day and the bitter kisses Baekhyun tries to forget during the night.

It’s been two months since Chanyeol had properly touched him. Baekhyun was not complaining, he doesn’t have any rights to say anything despite being Chanyeol’s husband. He knows that Chanyeol has been working day and night for both of them, perhaps Chanyeol is always too tired to even hug him to sleep. Baekhyun, however, stays at home, doing nothing.

It wasn’t supposed to happen.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Baekhyun was a pianist, constantly performing at a small pub downtown with a monthly income enough to feed one mouth. He sings, sometimes — but singing was the exact reason why Chanyeol had approached him five years ago, asking him on a date and telling him that he should not sing any longer as it would attract more men. Baekhyun finds it ridiculous; Chanyeol’s demands of not letting him sing anymore, but Baekhyun also finds himself obeying.

“Chanyeol,” he whispers against the bed sheets, covering his whole face. He feels his husband shifting beside him, before turning over and slowly pulling the bed sheets away. He feels, he savors as Chanyeol trace his index finger on the bridge of Baekhyun’s nose. 

All he sees is black, but he could sense that Chanyeol is smiling, so he smiles back. “Why won’t you make love to me anymore?”

Now, he feels Chanyeol tensing up, stiffening at his sudden question. Baekhyun bites his tongue in regret. “I’m sorry, forget that I asked.”

“Baekhyun…” Chanyeol says, his hand rubbing against Baekhyun’s arm in a friendly manner. “I…I’m kind of tired.”

“Okay,” Baekhyun nods. “That’s okay.”

And he expects Chanyeol to kiss him, passionate and tender, but all he receives is a small pat on his hair.

Chanyeol is probably preparing himself to sleep, as Baekhyun feels him move into a more comfortable position on the bed, facing the other way, but a question Baekhyun has been dying to ask is stuck onto his throat and Baekhyun wants the itch to go away.

“Are you using a new kind of cologne? You smell different.”

It’s true; Baekhyun always remembers how Chanyeol smelled like. Though now, he wasn’t quite comfortable with his husband smelling all fruity and sweet.

“Y-yeah,” he hears Chanyeol croak. “I am.”

Baekhyun turns to the warmer side of the bed, a pitiful excuse to stay closer to his husband and wrap his arm around Chanyeol’s waist. “It smells like perfume than it is cologne, though. Maybe you should buy another one?”

Slowly, Chanyeol removes Baekhyun’s hand off his body and distances himself. “Okay, Baekhyun.”

Dejected, Baekhyun lets his arm fall onto the mattress and pretends to sleep. 

Although he really just wants to say, “I’m not stupid.”


	2. I Don’t Love You

_The bed is empty_ , Baekhyun thinks.

As always, Chanyeol would wake up two hours earlier to prepare himself for work, but if this was four years ago, his tall husband would never leave the bed without pressing a soft kiss on Baekhyun’s forehead first. 

Now, four years later, Baekhyun finds himself pathetically roaming his hands around the cold, freezing sheets. The scent of fruity perfume is still lingering in their shared bedroom, strong stench plastered on his husband’s side of the bed. Baekhyun no longer sees, but the constant, strange shift of tension between them is enough to indicate that their marriage is dying.

And it scares him to know that he would do anything to save their pitiful, dying marriage.

A part of him contemplates on staying in bed or to head downstairs, where he could hear the faint sizzling of pans and oil. At least his husband has the common courtesy to cook breakfast before he leaves. Baekhyun groans lightly against his pillow, his arms stretching out awkwardly as he places his feet on the floor and breathes out. 

Another day of uselessly walking around the house, another day of shattered glasses, another day of listening to his husband’s quiet but annoyed grunts every time Baekhyun tries to hold onto the latter’s shoulder for assistance.

_One, two, three, four, five—trip_. Baekhyun’s feet slides on the bathroom floor, his heart racing slightly when he struggles to hold onto the sink. Chanyeol must have not cleaned the floor properly after showering; leaving lathers and bubbles of soap on the floor like that. Baekhyun settles on bathing himself later – after he greets Chanyeol off to work, because he knows that Chanyeol would return home from his office by the time Baekhyun is fast asleep.

_Six, seven, eight, nine; count your steps, think of the thoughts that would make you feel at ease._

When they first moved into their new house, Chanyeol’s grip on his hands never faltered as he lead him into new promises and memories. Staying in their old house brought them unwanted nostalgia of Baekhyun’s accident and his loss of sight. But now, as Baekhyun walks clumsily down the stairs, he figures that staying in their current house is equivalent to reminiscing their forgotten past. 

_Ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen…_

_What are the things that can make you feel at ease?_

A pair of stiff arms welcomes his fall and the tripping of his feet as Baekhyun misses a step on the staircase. His heart skips a beat once he hears the familiar chuckle. “Be careful.”

“Sorry…” Baekhyun lowers his head. “I was just counting my steps.”

“Is that still necessary? I mean, we’ve been living here for years…” Chanyeol allows him to stand properly, brushing the dust off Baekhyun’s shirt. “I think you might need some help.”

Baekhyun freezes. “What kind of help do you think I need?”

“Perhaps someone to assist you around the house or everywhere you go,” Chanyeol says like it meant nothing, “I’m not going to be by your side forever, you know. I have work.”

Squirming uncomfortably, Baekhyun tries to distract his husband with another question and a rumbling stomach. “Is breakfast ready?”

“…Yeah,” his husband says. “On the table. I got to go now. See you later.”

“You don’t want to eat together?” Baekhyun frowns as he reaches his hand out for Chanyeol to take and to lead him to the dining room. 

All he receives is cold air.

The front door shuts close, and Baekhyun is left alone.

—

It’s a Sunday.

Chanyeol figures that his husband didn’t even try to at least make use of the calendar that he’d bought for him a few weeks ago. ‘Work’ has become a petty excuse to free himself from the suffocation of being in that very house. ‘Responsibility’ has become a reason for him to stay. 

_Ah, really_. 

Chanyeol doesn’t exactly know how to explain to his blind husband that he has fallen out of love. 

There’s nothing left to say.

_You don’t pay attention to me anymore_. She does.

_You don’t care for me anymore_. She does.

_You never listen_. She always does.

It’s irritatingly frustrating. Ever since his loving husband lost his vision, everything has changed. Nothing was the same. Chanyeol doesn’t want to consider himself as a selfish man, but somehow… every single thing in their lives has revolved around Baekhyun, and it irks him. 

Their marriage was nothing but a pitiful excuse for assistance, to be there for Baekhyun only when he needed him.

Still, Chanyeol knows that he could never leave even if he wanted to. Who else would have tolerated a person like his husband?

Baekhyun depends on him. The one word that has feared him to this day, is a word he had never expected to become the perfect description for his marriage.

Shame.

Of course he’d noticed the guilty glances people flashed at him when he assisted Baekhyun to walk on the streets. 

Of course he’d noticed the look of pity on everyone’s faces as they stared at how his husband was struggling, stumbling around here and there. 

He despised it. How dare they stare at him like he was some kind of charity case?

Chanyeol is a wealthy man. He doesn’t depend on anyone or anything, he’s a capable man who’s capable of reaching further. The only thing that’s stopping him is in the form of his lover, his spouse, his husband. It scarred his pride when that one particular day, an elderly man came up to him, handed him money and told him to take good care of that blind friend of his.

That was also the last day of Chanyeol bringing Baekhyun out to the city.

_Quiet now… Just think of the thoughts that would make you feel at ease._

Chanyeol was a fool for thinking that he could have survived a loveless life of having to take care of his disabled husband. A few years ago, he could have. They had nothing else to worry about; no huge responsibilities, no hidden lovers, no secret desires. 

At this time of the day, Chanyeol would’ve had his head rested on Baekhyun’s lap as his small husband runs his slender fingers through Chanyeol’s hair blindly, searching for nothing but comfort.

“ _What are you thinking about_?” Baekhyun would have asked him, and Chanyeol would have grinned despite being unseen. 

Slowly, he would have answered, “ _You_.”

_Tell me, then. What are the thoughts that would make you feel at ease?_

_…You._

“What are you thinking about?”

Chanyeol stops fiddling with his car keys once Jinah grabs him by the hand, intertwining their fingers together and placing a kiss on his wrist. He’s startled by the sudden gesture, but soon eases himself in the warmth of her embrace when she leans in. “Nothing. Work stuff.”

“Well, it’s a Sunday, so you should get rid of your thoughts regarding to work.” Jinah laughs lightly; bright and bubbly. She reminds him of the sun. “Also, you promised that we would go to the mall today.”

“Mhm,” he hums, clicking on the unlock button of his car keys and opens the door for his lover. “I did, but I didn’t tell you what we’re going to be doing when we reach there.”

“Tell me! I’m excited,” she exclaims, reaching over to adjust the volume of the radio. Baekhyun’s favorite song is playing on air, but Chanyeol’s sudden thoughts are swept away once she connects the radio to her phone, and starts playing their own love song.

Chanyeol chuckles at his lover’s adorable excitement, quickly leaning over to kiss her on her lips before he starts driving. “You’re just going to have to wait ‘till we get there.”

—

“I hate surprises,” Jinah pouts when Chanyeol closes her eyes with both his hands, his chin resting comfortably on her shoulder. “Why do you always do this to me?”

“Trust me, you’ll love it,” Chanyeol lets go once they reach the store, greeted by the enthusiastic workers cooing at the couple’s cuteness. “You can open your eyes now.”

“What is—” his lover gasps once she sees the items prepared in front of her, shining dazzlingly. “Oh my god!”

The sight of the shimmering diamond rings, arranged according to sizes and prices, has Chanyeol’s heart beating erratically. He laughs as Jinah splutters upon seeing the rings, for it has been exactly a week since his impromptu proposal on their midnight date.

“Come on now, choose one of them.” he places his hand on her waist, holding onto the speechless woman. “Choose properly though, this is going to be our engagement ring, after all.”

“B-but—” she stutters, “Chanyeol, you’re still married...”

“I know, I know,” he mutters, cursing under his breath when one of the workers stared back at him in shock after hearing what Jinah had said. “Consider this a temporary engagement. We’ll… I’ll settle on the divorce later.”

“I…” she covers her mouth with the back of her hand, tears at the brim of her eyes. “Are you sure about this?”

“Who else would I want to spend my lifetime with, if it’s not you?” he wipes the fallen tears on her cheeks. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she sobs against his chest, shedding her tears on his suit. “I love you so much.”

As Chanyeol holds her in his arms, choosing on the prettiest engagement rings, he silently slides the current wedding band on his ring finger and shoves it in deep the pocket of his blazer.

—

Baekhyun was half asleep on the couch when his husband returned home.

His ears pick up on the sound of the door clicking and the soft padding of Chanyeol’s feet on the hardwood floors before he hears his husband sighing. Baekhyun stirs in his sleep, digging his face further into the couch, wishing to disappear. But he feels Chanyeol’s strong hands holding him on his back and under his knees, carrying him up and walking him back to their room.

He wraps his arms around Chanyeol’s neck, still drowsy with sleep, feeling lethargic. Gently, he smiles. “You’re home.”

“Yeah,” he hears Chanyeol breathe. “You fell asleep on the couch again...”

“I was waiting for you,” he whispers against Chanyeol’s neck, feeling his body move slightly when Chanyeol walks up the stairs. “How was work today?”

He feels Chanyeol stiffening but he shakes it off once Chanyeol continues to walk again. “It was fine.”

“I’m sorry for not being a good husband,” Baekhyun suddenly apologizes, now wide awake. He straightens himself in Chanyeol’s arms to lean up and kiss his husband’s jaw. “I promise I’ll be better.”

Chanyeol does not reply anymore, he only places Baekhyun carefully on their bed and takes off his shoes. He brushes his lips against Baekhyun’s forehead once.

Baekhyun sighs. “I love you, Chanyeol.”

“…Goodnight, Baekhyun.”

* * *


	3. Only I Didn't Know

“Are you sure this would work?”

Jinah taps her fingers on his thighs anxiously, biting on her bottom lip as she continues to contemplate on Chanyeol’s suggestions. The man holds onto her hand tightly in response, gives her an assuring smile and nods. 

A part of her thinks that her fiancé is insane, but deep inside, she knows that this is what she wants. 

It’s what they both want.

“Trust me on this, okay?” Chanyeol says. “This is the only way we could be together for now. I know how much it hurts for us to not see each other every day.”

She sighs. “Is this going to be forever?”

“No, it’s not—not forever.” Chanyeol sighs as well, a heavy weight of guilt hanging on his shoulder. “Just… until it’s the right time to tell him the truth.”

—

“I think I should sign up for piano lessons again,” Baekhyun chuckles, poking at his food with a fork. “I only remember some of the notes… That’s awful. Do you know anyone who teaches piano lessons for the blind?”

“I don’t know…” Chanyeol shrugs. “Ask one of your friends.”

“Can I—”

A loud ring of the doorbell travels through the whole house, interrupting Baekhyun from asking further questions on stupid piano classes. His ears perk up when he hears Chanyeol’s chair creaking loudly as he immediately stands up and struts towards the door.

Baekhyun gathers the plates and glasses, careful enough not let them slip on the floor. As he walks to the kitchen, placing the plates into the sink, he hears Chanyeol laughing. “Who’s at the door, Chanyeol?”

Chanyeol calls his name out loud, telling him to hurry down to the living room to greet a guest. “Remember when I told you that you needed someone to take care of you while I’m off to work or something?”

Baekhyun runs his fingers through the locks of his hair. “…Yes, but I don’t think that’s necessary—”

“Well, I’ve already found someone.” Chanyeol says; Baekhyun could almost sense the wide smile on his face. 

“Baekhyun, this is Jinah,” his husband grabs onto his hand to touch the stranger’s skin, making him flinch abruptly. “She’ll be living with us now. To take care of you.”

At that moment, Baekhyun wants to laugh and disappear. Who wouldn’t recognize that particular sweet smell of perfume that he has been trying to forget?

—

The last time he had remembered, his old friend, Yifan had beautiful brown hair and sun-kissed skin. Although now, even when Baekhyun is unable to see, he still could feel the warmth of Yifan’s laughter as they shake hands. He smiles shyly, both his hands tangled on his lap.

Wu Yifan is the owner of the small pub downtown that Baekhyun used to perform in — before he performed one of his favourite song and captured Chanyeol’s attention. Back then, Yifan wasn’t very pleased to hear that Chanyeol had forced Baekhyun to quit his job as a performer. Eventually, due to Chanyeol’s persistence, Yifan reluctantly approved of Baekhyun’s decision to quit.

“How are you?” Baekhyun starts, initiating a rather awkward conversation with his former boss. “You must be busy. I’m sorry to be calling you so suddenly…”

“It’s fine, I’m doing good,” he could hear the smile in Yifan’s voice and listens to the way he sips on his morning coffee. “It’s nice to be seeing you… I must say, after you quit, it’s like you never got out of your house. I rarely see you anywhere. Wouldn’t hurt for you to visit once in a while, would it?”

Baekhyun fidgets at Yifan’s teasing tone, chuckling nervously. “That’s true. My husband didn’t really want me to go anywhere after I…lost my vision.”

“…Sad,” he hears Yifan scoffing. “Anyway, what brings you here in the morning? The pub doesn’t open until late evening, you know that.”

“I…” Baekhyun stammers, and then laughs lightly. “It’s a long story.”

He shudders as Yifan leans in closer, grasping his left hand. “Both of us have all the time in the world, don’t we? Enlighten me, then.”

“I want to be able to play the piano again,” he confesses as he traces his finger on the smooth tablecloth. “After _years_ of not playing, I… I’ve forgotten how to do so. I asked Chanyeol’s permission, of course, and he didn’t really mind. Could you help me?”

“Your husband doesn’t mind you performing again?” Yifan questions. “I thought he didn’t want you to perform because, as I quote what he once said, you might ‘steal everybody’s hearts’?”

Baekhyun laughs, although not sincerely. It’s rather bitter. “He still won’t let me perform, but I can play the piano in the house than not doing anything.”

“Still controlling, I see…” Yifan murmurs. “Alright, then, Baekhyun. What kind of help do you need? You do know that I don’t play the piano…”

“Of course I know, I just—” he hesitates for a split second. “Do you know anyone who… can teach someone like me?”

A moment of silence pierces through their slow conversation, and Baekhyun grows more and more anxious as Yifan stays quiet. Baekhyun is quick to stutter out, “T-That’s fine—forget that I said anything—”

“I know someone,” Yifan interrupts his stammering speech. “He was your temporary replacement after you quit. He’s a very good pianist, I must say… I think I still have his number.”

He freezes for a while, before a bright grin appears on his face. If he wasn’t blind, he could have seen the fond smile on Yifan’s chapped lips.

“That’s wonderful!” Baekhyun exclaims. “Thank you, Yifan… Do you think he would want to teach me how to play the piano again?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” he feels the roughness of Yifan’s fingertips as the man traces them on his cheek. “You should go home now, Baekhyun. Your husband must be worried. I’ll be sure to call that boy soon.”

“Thanks again, Yifan,” he smiles sheepishly. “I owe you.”

“You sure do.”

—

Chanyeol dives in sweet ecstasy as he pulls his lover closer to him, pressing his lips on her neck as she cries out his name in bliss. Jinah has both her legs wrapped around his hips as she grabs his shoulder and pulls him in a thorough kiss. He doesn’t know where his small husband had gone, but he kept his worries aside and saw it as a chance.

His temporary freedom.

Jinah is quick to push him slightly away when he begins to roam his hands down her chest. He pays no attention as he continues to plant kisses on her breasts. 

His lover whines sarcastically. “Be careful… Your husband might see us.”

Chanyeol stops kissing his lover for a moment, looking up to see her teasing gaze. He unbuttons her blouse before the both of them burst out laughing.

—

The house feels cold the moment Baekhyun steps in. He places his walking stick by the door, stumbling when he steps on something foreign on the floor. _There it is again_ , he thinks. The sweet smell of fruity, sensual perfume surrounds the living room, suffocating him. He crouches carefully and grabs the foreign object lying on the floor.

“Chanyeol?” He calls out softly, only to have a hollow silence greeting him. “J-Jinah?”

His husband’s used piece of clothing was on the floor. Baekhyun is too afraid to walk further; terrified that he might face the truth that he had silently been denying.

He may be blind, but Chanyeol tends to forget that he isn’t stupid. Judging from the sounds coming from upstairs, Chanyeol must’ve forgotten that Baekhyun isn’t deaf either.

He locks himself in their room, sliding against the door as he hugs his knees and let his tears flow.

“If you don’t want me…” he chokes on his sob, whispering to himself. “Why don’t you just let me go?”

* * *

**yay!! the 2nd chapter is up after a long hiatus.**

**this chapter had been very painful for me to write :D**

**look at kris tho. although he's not the guy for baekhyun...he's quite an important character.**

**the other character will come, guys. do wait for him. he'll be the one teaching baekhyun to play the piano again.**

**hes not an exo member but try to guess who he is!**

**ok byebye i love u see u on erstwhile's next update**


	4. Perhaps Maybe

He presses one last kiss on the woman’s lips as she stirs in her sleep, craving for warm comfort. Chanyeol puts on his pants, not bothering to search for his shirt as he drags his feet out of the guestroom, feeling worn out. Glancing at the wall clock, Chanyeol notices that it’s already half past three in the morning. 

His husband must have returned hours ago, when Chanyeol was busy with Jinah in the guestroom. He bites his lips. Although feeling a bit anxious, he assures himself that Baekhyun wouldn’t know. Baekhyun must have been sleeping, or else, he would’ve searched for Chanyeol, knowing how dependent his husband is.

The moment Chanyeol enters the pitch-dark master bedroom; he tries to swallow the lump in his throat when he notices that the king-sized bed is empty. Bed sheets and pillows arranged neatly, as if the bed is untouched. Although he’s still in a sleepy, exhausted state, Chanyeol begins to sweat. 

Where on earth is his husband? He knows that Baekhyun went out to see Yifan, for some reasons he wouldn’t tell, but Chanyeol had expected him to be home at least an hour after he went out.

“Baekhyun…?” Chanyeol whispers, turning on the lights. Soft whimpers erupt from his left, and Chanyeol staggers back when he sees his husband sitting on the ground, face in his hands. “Baekhyun!”

His husband startles at this, jolting awake when he hears Chanyeol calling his name. Baekhyun whimpers once more, hands roaming around the floor. “Chanyeol?”

“Hey,” Chanyeol softly says, kneeling on the ground. “Why were you on the floor? Your eyes are so swollen... Did something happen?”

“Nothing,” his husband murmurs. “I fell asleep, I guess... What time is it?”

“It’s like three in the morning. Why aren’t you sleeping on the bed?” Chanyeol asks, sighing as he carries his husband easily, walking over to their shared bed. “Your back must’ve hurt, no?”

Baekhyun shakes his head against Chanyeol’s chest, clutching onto his arms. “…Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”

He swears he could hear the bitterness in Baekhyun’s voice when he asked him that question, but Chanyeol supposes it’s all in his imagination. He nervously laughs. “It was kind of hot, so I just took it off. Nothing you’ve never felt before, though.”

He feels Baekhyun laughing softly against his skin, his arms snaking up to wrap them around Chanyeol’s neck. “Chanyeol…?”

“Yeah?” Chanyeol stares at the small birthmark above his husband’s lips. He remembers how he liked to place a kiss on it every morning, earning a bright laughter from his husband. “What is it, baby?”

“Can you… Can you carry me just a bit longer?” Baekhyun asks, gnawing on his bottom lip. He raises his head from Chanyeol’s chest, facing his husband, although his eyes are focusing somewhere between Chanyeol’s jaw and his shoulder. “Please?”

Chanyeol freezes before he sighs, droplets of intense guilt dripping onto him, soaking him. He wants nothing but to put his husband to bed and sleep, but the look on Baekhyun’s face makes him hesitate. “I’m really tired, though. Just for a while, okay?”

Baekhyun nods, smiling a little in relief. “Okay.”

Chanyeol unconsciously smiles back, tightening his hold on his husband as he heads to the balcony. “Help me open the window, please,” he says playfully.

His husband struggles at first, pouting when his hand tries to reach out for the knob, but only roam on flat surfaces of the French windows. Chanyeol stifles a laugh at this, pressing a kiss on his husband’s cheek in adoration. He doesn’t realize the way Baekhyun stiffens. When his husband finally grabs onto the knob, Chanyeol brings him to the balcony, shivering when cold air hits their skin.

“Aren’t you cold?” Chanyeol asks, arms feeling a little numb from carrying his husband. “Your shirt isn’t that thick.”

“Not really,” Baekhyun mumbles, before he laughs. “You’re the one who’s not wearing a shirt.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Chanyeol chuckles. “I’m freezing. Let’s go back inside.”

“Just a moment,” his husband stops him with a hand on his collarbone. “Just a few minutes. Let’s just stay like this for a few minutes.”

He gazes at his husband worriedly. “Did something happen today, Baekhyun?”

Baekhyun keeps quiet for a while, resting his head on Chanyeol’s shoulder as he basks in the ambience of the 4 A.M. breeze. “I’m going to have my piano class tomorrow. Yifan didn’t tell me who the teacher is, but he told me that it’s a college student.”

Chanyeol snorts. “Really? He could only afford to hire you a teacher who’s a college student?”

“Well, he might be a great pianist.” Baekhyun says. “He has experience on teaching blind people too, so that’s an advantage…”

Sighing, Chanyeol walks back into their room, gently placing Baekhyun on the bed despite his husband’s protests. Baekhyun thrashes against the bed, kicking the bed sheets away before Chanyeol hovers on top of him, slamming both his hands on the bed as he stares at him, making his husband flinch.

“I have work tomorrow, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol huffs, sudden annoyance creeping up to him. “Please, let me go to sleep, hm?”

“…Okay,” Baekhyun whispers, “Sorry.”

“You missed me that much, huh?” He chuckles, letting go of his husband’s hands to trace his fingers on his husband’s face. “I’ll carry you again some time, okay? But for now, we have to get some sleep.”

Baekhyun nods obediently, snuggling up to his husband for comfort as Chanyeol wraps an arm around his waist. “Goodnight, Baekhyun.”

“I’ll let you go, Chanyeol…” Baekhyun whispers softly. Too soft. If it isn’t for the silent atmosphere, Chanyeol wouldn’t have heard what his small husband just said. “…I’ll let you go if you want to go.”

Chanyeol’s heart skips, sudden wave of guilt threatening to drown him.

“I love you, Chanyeol…” Baekhyun sleepily murmurs. “I love you so much that I won’t force you to stay. Just tell me that you don’t want to stay and I’ll… I’ll leave.”

—

Baekhyun wakes up with a heavy arm around his hips and warm puffs of hot breath tickling his neck. Chanyeol is still asleep — he only realizes how much he misses being with Chanyeol so close like this. 

Though at the same time, he can’t help but feel ashamed — disgusted, even. He’s disgusted with himself to feel this overwhelmingly happy just because he’s in his husband’s embrace, when another person has been in the same embrace just a few hours earlier.

He reluctantly untangles their legs, removing Chanyeol’s hand from his waist and sits up on the bed, rubbing his face. Sounds of sizzling pans could be heard from downstairs. Baekhyun sighs. At least, the girl has the decency to cook breakfast after sleeping with his husband. Not bothering to even wake Chanyeol up, Baekhyun walks to the bathroom, preparing himself for a long day.

The moment he walks down for breakfast, Jinah brings him to the dining table. “Good morning, Mr. Byun.”

“Good morning,” Baekhyun smiles. “Did you sleep well last night?”

“Uh,” she pauses. “Yes, I did.”

Baekhyun nods, sipping onto his morning coffee. “I’m sure you did.”

“Where’s… Where’s Mr. Park?” She asks, pulling out a seat for herself. The chair screeches against the floor so harshly, Baekhyun had to grit his teeth. “Is he still asleep?”

“I suppose so.” Baekhyun replies. “He didn’t get enough sleep last night.”

She pauses for a while before continuing to speak. “…I’ll go and wake him up, if you don’t mind, Mr. Byun.”

Baekhyun’s hand freezes as he grips onto the mug of coffee. Humming once his lips greet the rim of the mug, he nods once more. “Go on.”

She excuses herself then, and Baekhyun had to clench his eyes shut to force himself not to break down. He needs to prepare himself for what’s to come. He knows Chanyeol will let go of him. His husband would leave him some time soon. He doesn’t know how he would deal with that in the future, but Baekhyun figures that he should keep calm and play along in the masquerade of lies — their marriage.

He could hear Jinah’s giggles coming from upstairs. He hears the sound of his husband’s genuine laughter, the sound of lips crashing against lips, the sound of the shower running. He hears the sound of his own heart shattering. 

It’s odd how he’s the one who feels like a stranger in his own house.

Baekhyun doesn’t get to chew on his meal once the doorbell rings. Opting on opening the door, Baekhyun takes careful steps to the living room, annoyed by the constant ringing of the doorbell. “Coming! Just wait a sec!”

The shower is still running. He bitterly wonders if Jinah possibly had joined his husband in the bathroom. Baekhyun scoffs softly.

Silence welcomes him once he opens the door. He frowns. “Am I being pranked? Is there anyone out there?”

“Y-yes, hello!” A loud voice greets him and Baekhyun flinches, gasping when a pair of cold hands holds onto his for a friendly handshake. “Hello! Sorry for being quiet for a while there.”

“H-Hello…” Baekhyun awkwardly says, bowing a little. “Are you looking for someone?”

“As a matter of fact, I am,” the stranger cheerfully replies. Baekhyun could practically _hear_ the smile in his voice. “I’m looking for Byun Baekhyun. You must be him, aren’t you?”

“Yes…” Baekhyun hesitantly replies. “That’s me.”

“Ah, it’s so nice to meet you!” The stranger shakes his hand enthusiastically. “My name is Jisoo, I will be teaching you how to play the piano!”

Baekhyun exhales a breath of relief he doesn’t even realize he has been holding. He smiles. “Ah, I see… It’s nice to meet you too, Jisoo. I’m looking forward for our first lesson.”

“Yifan hyung really didn’t lie when he said that you’re good-looking…” Jisoo mumbles, making Baekhyun laugh.

“And Yifan told me that you’re a college student.” Baekhyun grins. “You seem like a funny person, kid.”

“—Baekhyun?”

He turns around at the mention of his name. He hears the sound of Chanyeol walking nearer to him.

Baekhyun smiles. “Good morning, Chanyeol. Did Jinah wake you up?”

“Yeah, she did…” Chanyeol says in a low voice. “Who’s this?”

“This is Jisoo, my… teacher, who’s also younger than me,” he laughs, earning a chuckle from Jisoo himself. “We’ll be having piano lessons in the house, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t, baby.” Baekhyun stands frozen when he feels Chanyeol kissing him on his forehead. “I have to go to work now. I’ll see you when I get back.”

Baekhyun forces a smile until he hears the door closing. “That’s my husband. His name is Chanyeol.”

“Oh, you’re married,” Jisoo says. “Your husband is good-looking too.”

He leads the younger man to the piano room. The room that he remembers clearly, step by step; the placement of the huge piano that Chanyeol had bought for him when they got married, the music sheets by the cupboard, the framed photos hanging on the wall. It’s the room that Baekhyun seeks refuge in.

“Woah, this is a really good-looking room!” He hears Jisoo shriek. “A good-looking piano, too.”

Baekhyun chuckles. “Everything is good-looking for you.”

“All right, I take it back. The piano is great-looking.” Jisoo laughs. “Anyway, before we start, I figured that we could talk about the days and hours of our lessons.”

“Sure, please have a seat.” Baekhyun places his hands on the walls, counting his steps. “There _is_ a chair at the corner there, right?”

“Yes, there is.” Jisoo replies, slightly holding onto his arm as he leads them to the sofa. Baekhyun thanks him with a smile, playing with his fingers.

“I’ll just start by introducing myself; my name is Kim Jisoo. I’m turning twenty in three weeks and I’m majoring in Architecture, but I have an undying passion for pianos.” Jisoo speaks up, sounding confident. “I have classes on Monday mornings and evenings, Tuesday afternoon, Wednesday, Thu—”

“Just tell me when you’re free for piano lessons, Jisoo,” Baekhyun covers his mouth with the back of his hand to stifle his amused laugh.

“Oh, right! I’m available on Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays.” Jisoo sheepishly answers, slightly giggling. “Now it’s your turn to introduce yourself!”

“What are we, boys in kindergarten?” Baekhyun playfully jokes, but complies nonetheless. “My name is Byun Baekhyun. I turned twenty five a few months ago. Playing the piano used to be my life, singing too... After an unfortunate event, I lost the ability to see.”

The room is silent for a moment, before Jisoo clears his throat and claps suddenly. “You don’t look like you’re five years older than me, hyung.”

“Well, I don’t know how you look like, so I’ll just picture you as an old-looking man.” Baekhyun teases the younger boy. “In that way, I wouldn’t feel so old.”

“You can feel my face, I don’t mind.” Without his consent, Jisoo takes his hands, placing them on each side of Jisoo’s face. “Isn’t my skin soft? It’s because I’m young.”

Baekhyun presses his thumbs on the younger boy’s cheekbones, trailing his fingers on Jisoo’s jaw. His fingers travel nearer towards Jisoo’s eyes as he feels the boy’s eyelids fluttering closed. Baekhyun brushes his slender fingers on Jisoo’s eyebrows before he flicks his fingers on the boy’s forehead.

“Hey!” Jisoo winces. “What was that for?”

“You didn’t have to brag about your soft skin.” Baekhyun scoffs, hands retreating to his sides. “Should we start with the lesson now?”

“Okay!” The younger boy cheers, pulling Baekhyun up and leads him to the piano. “I’ll play a song for you so I could prove that I’m a good pianist. Do you have any songs in mind?”

The only song that comes to his mind – of course it had to be his husband’s favourite song. The one that Baekhyun used to play for him whenever his husband is feeling sad, or when his husband is watching him play the piano with a soft smile on his face. Baekhyun hums. “Do you know Lee Ji Soo’s Love Poem?”

“Of course! I love that song.” Jisoo says. “Even our names are the same.”

He chuckles, nodding. “Play that song, then. Let me see if you could nail it.”

“Challenge accepted,” Jisoo utters arrogantly, blowing raspberries at Baekhyun before he trips on the piano chair.

Baekhyun has to bite onto his knuckles in order to stop himself from laughing. 

* * *


	5. Love Sick

It turns out that Jisoo is a wonderful pianist. Baekhyun knows so; listening to the way he presses into the keys, hitting the notes perfectly without referring to any music sheets. As he sits beside the younger man, Baekhyun taps his fingers on his lap, nodding his head along and humming to the tune. His fingers itch, dying and craving to play along, though at the same time, Baekhyun has a feeling that he would just ruin the song. Jisoo’s already playing so beautifully, that is, until he starts to sing along.

“ _Ttararara ttarattara ttarattara_ ,” Jisoo sings-songs, going off-pitch. Baekhyun covers his mouth with his hand in order to stifle his laughter.

The fact that Baekhyun’s laughter rings around the room seems to stop Jisoo from playing. He could almost _feel_ the glare that Jisoo shoots his way. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Baekhyun’s shoulders shake as he continues to laugh. “It’s just that… you were great at playing the piano until you started to sing.”

“Oh please, I _can_ sing, probably better than you can,” Jisoo brags, or in this case, tries to defend himself, as he slams his palms on the piano.

“You wanna bet on it?” Baekhyun, in return, chuckles. “Do remember that Yifan was the one who hired you to teach me. I used to be a singer at the pub.”

A few seconds of silence pass before Baekhyun hears the younger man clearing his throat, voice stuttering to form a sentence. “W-Well, maybe some time we could have a singing competition and see who wins.”

“Deal,” he shrugs, clearly feeling unaffected. “Be prepared to lose.”

Jisoo snorts, feigning anger. “This is only the first class and you’re already trying to fight me. I can see that this was a bad idea. I’m your teacher!”

“I’m still older than you!” Baekhyun smacks the boy’s head. “Quit disrespecting your hyung!”

The younger man laughs, trying to avoid Baekhyun’s hits as he backs away. “Okay, okay! Sorry!”

“Can we seriously start with the lesson now?” He asks, unconsciously forming a pout with his lips.

“We could…” Jisoo says, before the tone in his voice turns playful. “Only if I can grab some snacks I saw at the kitchen just now.”

Baekhyun sighs. “You’re shameless.” 

The married man plays with the spoon that was lying on the wooden table, scraping it against the wood lightly as he listens to the sound of Jisoo sipping on his drink, occasionally moaning in delight on how the food melts in his mouth. Despite the younger man’s non-stop talking and blabbering, Baekhyun feels a sense of calmness as he sits there, in the kitchen, nodding to anything Jisoo says. 

Staying at a home so quiet, rather uncomfortable than tranquil, only occupied with the sounds of Chanyeol’s soft breathing now and then, he must admit that Jisoo’s presence brings a foreign feeling.

Perhaps he was too used to being in a silent ambience. After all, Chanyeol stopped initiating any conversations after he had lost interest in his husband. Baekhyun supposes that it’s fun to listen to someone talking so loudly, voice booming through the whole kitchen. It reminds him of the days Chanyeol and him were still dating, both of them playing late-night video games in their dorm and shouting at each other’s game characters.

“Do you want to be an architect?” Baekhyun asks. “Is that why you’re studying architecture?”

Jisoo gulps down his food before he answers. “No… I was forced to study architecture.”

“Oh,” the smaller man raises his brow in confusion. “Why?”

“My parents have always wanted their children to be ‘successful people’. My older sister was forced to become a doctor and my brother had to study engineering when all he wants is to become a teacher.” Jisoo explains. “I guess we didn’t really have a choice for our future. It doesn’t really matter now, after they kicked me out of the house. They don’t consider me as their son anymore. I could drop out if I wanted to, but then it would be a waste of two years of stress and all-nighters.”

“Oh…” Baekhyun awkwardly replies, fidgeting at the younger man’s sudden confession. “I’m sorry.”

Jisoo chuckles. “It’s fine. It happened a long time ago.”

Baekhyun grins, giving the younger man a thumbs-up. “You can consider me as your older brother if you ever miss having one.”

If he still had his vision, Baekhyun would see the soft smile on Jisoo’s lips as he stares at him fondly. “I’d rather not.”

“Why not?” Baekhyun pouts, sulkily bringing his hand down as he continues to play with the spoon.

There’s a long, pregnant pause before Jisoo laughs heartily, reaching out to ruffle the married man’s hair as he teases him. “I _could_ consider you as a younger brother instead.”

“Only if you wish to be dead,” Baekhyun deadpans, earning another fit of laughter from the younger man. “Wash your own dishes, kid.”

—

Chanyeol returns home that night with a smile on his face, cheeks blossoming red due to the amount of alcohol he’d consumed earlier that night. It’s a little odd for the house to be so dark at only 10 o’clock, though Chanyeol pays no heed as he exclaims, “I’m home!”, excited to tell his lovers what he had achieved.

Jinah is the first to greet him, running down the stairs and practically throwing herself at him after a long day of not seeing and texting each other. Chanyeol grins as his lover continues to feed his ego with kisses on his neck, telling him how much she missed his presence.

“Guess what,” he says as he places his hands behind her thighs, hoisting her up as she wraps her legs around his waist. Chanyeol presses her against the wall, sliding his hand up her blouse. “I won the case.”

She gasps. “The one you’ve been working your ass off on?”

Chanyeol nods, smirking. “I suppose I deserve a celebration.”

“Of course you do,” Jinah flirts, winking as she trails her sharp fingernails down his chest. “I’ll go and freshen up. You can wait at my room for a while. Want a little strip tease?”

He chuckles. “Do you really have to ask?”

“I had a really boring day without you,” she whines, pulling at his blazer. “Your husband had a fun day, though.”

Chanyeol’s brows furrow in confusion. “Did he go out?”

“No, but I guess he had a fun time with… What’s his name again?” Jinah wonders. “Kisoo? Jisoo? Yeah, that guy. I’ve never seen Baekhyun laugh before. It’s kind of cute.”

Chanyeol frowns at her remark, bothered by the fact that she has never seen his husband laugh before. 

Chanyeol has made Baekhyun laugh a lot of times, hasn’t he? 

He couldn’t recall the last time he did so. 

“I’m gonna check up on him for a while. Where is he?”

“In the master bedroom, I guess,” Jinah shrugs. “He’s probably sleeping.”

His lover was right. When Chanyeol enters the room, he sees his husband sleeping on the bed, blanket almost thrown off, dangling by his legs. It’s a rather adorable sight to see; Baekhyun sleeping soundly with his cheek pressed against the pillow. 

Chanyeol kneels by the bed, pulling the blanket to fully cover his husband’s body. He knows Baekhyun isn’t fond of the cold air, shivering even when the a/c isn’t turned on.

He presses a light kiss on Baekhyun’s cheek, swiping his hair to the back of his ear. He flinches when Baekhyun stirs, pulling away when his husband starts to whimper. “You’re home…”

“Yeah, I got some good news,” he smiles as Baekhyun rubs his eyes with his fists, sitting up on the bed to face his husband. “I won the case that I’ve been working hard to win.”

“That’s great!” Baekhyun grins. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Chanyeol reaches his hand out, under the sheets to hold onto his husband’s hands. “How was your day? Jinah told me that you had a fun time with the Kisoo guy.”

“It’s Jisoo,” Baekhyun chuckles softly, lips turning into a smile as he recalls the day he had. “He’s a wonderful guy—talented, too. He’s a great pianist but a rather boastful one. Did I mention that he’s majoring in architecture? I had to sit there and pretend that I understand what he was saying when he told me about his projects and assignments. Although my ears kind of hurt when he started to sing, he has a good taste in music… He’s funny too, that one time he—”

Baekhyun’s words are stopped halfway as Chanyeol leans in and kisses him on the lips, cradling his face. He tastes a tinge of alcohol on the tip of Chanyeol’s tongue as he slides it in between Baekhyun’s lips, pushing him down to the sheets. He pulls away, gasping for air when Chanyeol rests his face on the crook of Baekhyun’s neck.

“What…” Baekhyun croaks out, “What was that for?”

“I’ve never seen you talk about someone so excitedly before,” Chanyeol says. “How come you’ve never talked about me like that, hmm?”

Baekhyun scowls. “I made a new friend, Chanyeol. Is it wrong for me to be a little excited?”

“…Let’s just go to sleep,” Chanyeol says, pulling Baekhyun by the waist, not even bothering to take his suit off.

—

He locks the door with a click, throwing his coat on the slick, black couch. As his eyes roam around the living room, the man realizes that painting the walls jet black might have been a bad idea. The grey curtains prevent the sunlight from coming in — the only source of light comes from the bright lights that the man turns on with a snap of his fingers. 

The glass half full of champagne is still on the kitchen counter, the one that he had been sipping on last night, along with a basket of grapes lying on the marbled counters.

The man pays no heed to the mess he made the night before as he unbuttons his shirt, tossing the damp clothing onto the floor of the living room. His eyes darken as they land on the closed door beside the master bedroom. 

He stares at the small dream-catcher keychain hanging from the doorknob, igniting a short flash of nostalgic memories; the strands of brown hair, the texture of plump pink lips. It has been a few days since he had left the room unattended — it wouldn’t be a wrong thing to _visit_ , would it?

The moment his left hand holds onto the doorknob, the phone in his pocket rings annoyingly, vibrating against his clothed thigh. He rolls his eyes as he answers the call. “I’m busy.”

“ _But boss—_ ”

“Didn’t you hear me the first time?” He grits out, “I’m busy. I have a date as usual.”

The voice on the other line pauses for a while. “… _I understand_. _Have a nice… date, boss_.”

He hangs up, not bothering to say a thing. His grip on the doorknob tightens as he opens the door. The cool swoosh of air hits his bare skin, yet he couldn’t find it in himself to give a damn. A small smirk plays on his lips, staring at the pictures on the wall. 

“Gorgeous,” the man whispers.

Polaroid pictures of a boy with the biggest dreams are plastered clumsily on the corner walls, followed by excessive heart stickers and scribbled handwritings. He reaches his hand out to caress the pink lips on the picture, not forgetting to press his thumb on the small mole above the boy’s upper lip. 

“Baby,” he breathes.

“Aren’t you just the most beautiful person?” He mutters, adoring the particular picture of the boy that he took about two years ago. “ _Mine_.”

He grabs the familiar snowy sweater by the bed, pushing the cuffs and ropes away as he sniffs on the scent that he craves for—day and night—inhaling the intoxicating smell of the boy.

“If only you could see all of this, baby,” he says as he stares at the sweater that the boy once wore on a special day. “One day, you’ll see all the things I’ve done just for you…”

The man continues to cradle the sweater in his arms, his arousal tightening the front of his pants as he eyes the scattered pictures on the bed sheets. 

“One day, Baekhyun…”

* * *

**uh oh..someone's obsessed with baekhyun...**

**do u guys know who it is??**


	6. We Fight Ourselves

Chanyeol sits in his office, occasionally nibbling on fingernail of his thumb, tapping his fingers on the pile of papers. His newest client has been complaining a lot, trying to prove his innocence with blunt evidences, but work is currently the least of his concerns. It has been exactly two weeks since the conversation (technically, it was a _fight_ , but Chanyeol prefers to address it as a misunderstanding) right after Jinah lashed out on him for forgetting about their date night after he won his previous case.

He clearly remembers how that particular night went—he promised a date night with his lover, went upstairs to check on his husband, kissed him for no reasons and fell asleep to avoid further confrontation that his mind has been pestering him to face. The next morning, though, he ended up with a slap on his face to start his day.

“ _What is up with you these days_?” Jinah gritted out past her teeth, throwing a cloth at his face. It didn’t help that he saw her wiping the kitchen counter with the same cloth. “ _I waited for you, Chanyeol! I was waiting in my room, buck naked and cold, but of course you’d fall asleep with your husband! That’s totally what I’m here for, right_?”

“ _I’m sorry! I was too tired and I didn’t remember,_ ” he pleaded, right hand cupping his reddening cheek. “ _Don’t shout, Jinah, he could hear you._ ”

“ _See! I’m so sick of this—sick of you being so careful and secretive about us!_ ” Jinah exclaimed, ignoring the smell of burnt eggs on the pan. “ _You proposed to me, told me you love me, yet told me to ‘wait’ for the right time. And I agreed! But tell me, Chanyeol, when is the right time for you to tell him that you don’t love him anymore? Why aren’t those damned divorce papers signed?! I told you that I’d wait, but not forever!_ ”

Chanyeol sighs, rubbing his face with his hands. He couldn’t even _look_ at Baekhyun after Jinah talked some senses into him. She was right—it was time for him to tell Baekhyun the truth. He couldn’t let Jinah wait; she doesn’t deserve to wait for their upcoming wedding. _It’s simple_ , his mind says. _Give Baekhyun those divorce papers_.

It’s rather easier said than done, honestly. He may not be in love with Baekhyun anymore, but that does not mean that he no longer cares for his blind husband. Of course he still does. Baekhyun still depends on him, still needs a helping hand on a daily basis. If he leaves him, who else would take care of him? He had forbade Baekhyun from seeing his parents—his friends, his acquaintances, _Kris_. He was possessive, he had to admit, but now Chanyeol supposes that he doesn’t mind anymore. Perhaps once the divorce is finalized, he would send Baekhyun back to his parents’ house.

**To: Jinah**

_I’m sorry, babe. I’ll make it up to you tonight, I promise. I love you._

**From: Jinah**

_I love you too, but I don’t know if I can wait any longer._

Chanyeol bites his lips, staring at his lover’s response. With a knock on the door to Oh Sehun’s office, Chanyeol types a reply.

**To: Jinah**

_You don’t have to. Not anymore, babe._

There’s a confused smile playing on Sehun’s lips when Chanyeol enters the room, keeping his phone back in his pockets. “Hey, Park. What’s with the sudden visit? Is it lunch time already?”

“No, uh…” Chanyeol trails off, distracted when he sees another person standing beside Sehun in the room. “I have to talk to you.”

“All right, just a minute,” Sehun says before his attention is back on the tall, lanky man fidgeting in his suit. “I think that’s all for now, Joohyuk. You can come back after lunch.”

“Of course,” the man nods, not forgetting to bow to Chanyeol before he excuses himself out.

“Who’s that?” Chanyeol asks, pointing at the door.

Sehun shrugs. “That’s Nam Joohyuk. Freshly graduated out of law school; he’s basically kind of like an intern under my care.”

“May lord have mercy on him, then,” Chanyeol jokes, smirking.

Sehun rolls his eyes, but pulls out a chair for Chanyeol to sit on nonetheless. “What’s up?”

“You know that I… have an affair with Jinah, right?” Chanyeol croaks out. The word _affair_ seems a little too bitter for him to swallow. Sehun nods stiffly. “Well, since you’re the best divorce attorney here, I figured—”

“Hell no,” Sehun cuts him off before he could even finish talking. “ _Hell no_ , Park. Don’t make me do this.”

Chanyeol frowns, letting out a groan—although it comes out as a whine. “ _Sehun_.”

“No! Absolutely not. By being your friend, I became Baekhyun’s friend too,” Sehun says, scowling. “And I’m not going to hurt him like this.”

“You’re not going to hurt anyone! Baekhyun and I… we don’t love each other anymore. I’m sure he has fallen out of love a long time ago, just like me,” Chanyeol says. Lies drip out of his mouth, stinging his lip as if it was bleeding. “This marriage is dead. Someone _needs_ to get out of it before it hurts the both of us.”

Sehun sends him a look. “What if he’s already hurting?”

Chanyeol ignores the question, opting on staring at the dull blue wallpaper. “You’ve been a great lawyer to so many couples who wished for a divorce. Why can’t you do that for me, too?”

“Because I know you,” the divorce attorney answers. “I know how you always make the wrong decisions because you don’t think everything thoroughly and end up regretting your choices. I don’t want that to happen with your relationship with your husband.”

“I don’t love my husband anymore,” Chanyeol deadpans.

Sehun only stares at him—as if he’s daring Chanyeol to tell him the truth. Chanyeol could only look away.

“Tell you what; go home and tell Baekhyun about your true feelings. Tell him about my former client, Jinah. Tell him about how you fell for her and tell him that you no longer love him—that all he is to you is a burden.” Sehun says, insensitive, but somehow true. “Tell him the truth. Only then, I’ll hand you the divorce papers.”

_Easier said than done_ , that’s for sure. 

“Okay.”

—

A pair of palms cups his eyes, making him flinch and gasp. Baekhyun’s grip on his glass of water almost falls and shatters on the marbled floor. “Guess who!”

Baekhyun tries to cover his chuckle, but fails eventually. “You know that you don’t have to cover my eyes, right? I still can’t see, Jisoo.”

The pair of hands falters, as he hears Jisoo stiffening behind him. “Oh…right…”

Baekhyun turns around, laughing and traces his fingers gently on Jisoo’s neck up to his face. He ruffles the younger man’s hair, pulling on it. “Plus, even if I _could_ see, I’d still know that it was you.”

Jisoo grabs on a few strands of Baekhyun’s hair as well. “How so?”

“You always smell like cookies for some reason,” he confesses, leaning in to sniff at Jisoo’s collar. He doesn’t notice the way Jisoo freezes and gulps. “I like it.”

It’s true; Jisoo always smells like an odd combination of brown sugar and cinnamon. It’s rather pleasant—Baekhyun finds himself leaning closer to the younger man every time he arrives. Now that he thinks about it again, the thought of it makes him feel like a weird pervert. Baekhyun shakes his head adorably.

“Oh, that’s because my housemate really loves to bake.” Jisoo explains, chuckling. Baekhyun could feel the younger man’s hand playing with Baekhyun’s locks, pushing the soft strands of hair behind his ears. “He made brownies this morning. They’re really delicious. I could bring some over if you want a taste.”

“That’d be nice,” Baekhyun replies, smiling. He leans back on the kitchen counter, placing his glass of water in the sink as he reaches for the dishwashing soap. Jisoo beats him to it, grabbing the sponge, rinsing off the glass and dries his hands. “All done.”

Baekhyun frowns. “I don’t need help, Jisoo. I could do that on my own.”

“I know,” the younger man says, pinching on Baekhyun’s cheeks. “I just wanted to help. Also, you smell like peaches. I don’t want the lemony dishwashing soap to ruin that. Lemon and peach don’t go together.”

Baekhyun playfully pinches his own nose, blowing raspberries at the pianist. “Cookies and peaches don’t go together, too.”

“I beg to differ,” Jisoo smugly retorts, grabbing onto Baekhyun’s arm, gently pulling him out of the kitchen. “Let’s go and start our lesson now. But it’s going to be a little different today.”

Baekhyun pauses, realizing that Jisoo is currently dragging him to the front door as he counts his steps. “Where are we going?”

The younger man doesn’t reply, instead, he hands Baekhyun a pair of mittens and a coat—judging by the touch of the fabric, it’s Chanyeol’s coat. Baekhyun wonders if Jisoo noticed if the coat he had handed him wasn’t his. “Wear that. It’s a little cold out today.”

“Where are you taking me?” Baekhyun asks, but obeys Jisoo’s words anyway. The smell of Chanyeol’s cologne on the coat welcomes him with warmth and Baekhyun fights the urge to sigh. He feels pathetic.

“There’s this abandoned piano, it’s close to Hongdae Street. Sometimes I like to play some songs over there, to entertain the homeless people.” Jisoo says. Baekhyun flinches a little when he suddenly feels Jisoo’s hand holding onto his tightly as they make their way out of the house. “I already told your…caretaker that I’d bring you out for today. She said that it’s okay for me to do so. Do you mind?”

“No,” Baekhyun murmurs, although he feels a little bothered that Jinah didn’t tell him that Jisoo had already asked her for permission to take him out. “It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten out of the house, though. It feels nice to get some fresh air.”

“Awesome,” Jisoo grins. “Here, hold onto my arm. We’re going to take the bus, okay?”

Baekhyun hesitates for a moment before he nods timidly, releasing Jisoo’s palm as he reaches out for the man’s arm, linking it with his. He pouts. “I feel like I’m the younger one here.”

Jisoo chuckles softly. The sound of it rings delightfully in his ears. “That’s okay, hyung. You certainly look younger, anyway.”

The younger man doesn’t allow him to free himself from the man’s grip on his arm even when they’re sitting at the bus stop, instead, Jisoo taps his fingers on his lap as he hums to the same beat—Baekhyun only realizes that he has been doing the same thing until the bus arrives and his hand is suddenly on Jisoo’s arm once again.

Even without his vision, the busy street of Hongdae is still lively—judging by the sound of people bustling around, indie music being sung by a live band and hawkers advertising their stalls to attract customers. The atmosphere is hectic, but to Baekhyun, it’s something he had secretly craved for—after a long time of not visiting such noisy places. He shifts closer to Jisoo when some people inevitably push against him in the crowded street.

“Are we there yet?” Baekhyun whispers in the younger man’s ear.

“We’re getting there,” Jisoo says a little loudly, “It’s just around the corner.”

The ambience is quiet once they reach the place. According to Jisoo, it’s an abandoned tunnel, now only used for people to take short cuts and homeless people to find refuge in. And oddly enough, there’s an unwanted piano with small scratches and stains of paint and dirt. Jisoo brings him to the piano, sitting beside him and clapping his hands excitedly.

“This is, like, my most favorite piano ever.” Jisoo gushes. “She’s like my best friend. I named her Nemo.”

Jisoo guides his hand and places it on the piano. Baekhyun lets his hand roam around before he presses a finger onto one of the key, grimacing when a screeching sound erupts. “It’s out of tune.”

“I know. Nemo is a fighter,” Jisoo says proudly. “Sometimes mean kids step on her, hobos throw empty soju bottles at her, but at the end of the day, she’s the only thing that made me happy when I was sad.”

“Nothing is more saddening than an old piano that’s out of tune,” Baekhyun retorts, scoffing playfully.

“It’s not completely out of tune. She just has specific songs that she likes.” Jisoo rubs his palms together, as if he’s preparing his hands for a big piano competition. “Like Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star or some Christmas jingles.”

“Oh my god,” Baekhyun says in realization. “You’re totally treating me like a kindergarten kid, aren’t you?”

Jisoo bursts in a fit of laughter, cackling as he plays a random tune on the old piano. “I’m not! It’s just that your choice of songs is so… classical. You’d make these hobos sleepy in no time.”

He pretends to frown, crossing his arms against his chest as he scrunches his nose. “Don’t criticize my choice of songs. Plus, it’s a good thing to help these people get some sleep that they need.”

“Trust me, they’ve gotten enough sleep.” Jisoo snorts. “Let’s try something more…loud. I suggest The Final Countdown or Bohemian Rhapsody.”

“As long as you don’t sing, I’m good to go.” Baekhyun jokes, not knowing that Jisoo is sending him a glare. “I’m just kidding. Let’s make a deal.”

Jisoo blinks. “What deal?”

“If you could play Bohemian Rhapsody perfectly with this old, out-of-tune piano,” Baekhyun grins. “We’ll get some ice cream as a reward. My treat.”

“Deal,” Jisoo bumps his fist onto Baekhyun’s palm. “If I don’t succeed and play horribly, I have to piggyback you all the way home.”

Baekhyun winces. “That’s sounds tough. You have no idea how heavy I am.”

“That’s why I’m going to win this deal and get that ice cream,” Jisoo smirks.

He ends up carrying Baekhyun back home, groaning and whining as Baekhyun falls asleep on his back. 

* * *


	7. Please Don't...

“Do you have any classes with Kisoo today?”

Chanyeol mumbles out a question, rearranging the freshly printed paperwork by the dining table. He’s in the middle of pulling a stack of papers out of the large brown envelope—bitterly tracing the Braille-transcribed words on the paper—when he hears Baekhyun’s soft laugh coming from the living room. 

“I told you, his name is Jisoo.” His husband says, the smile in his voice pulling at Chanyeol’s heartstrings. “And no, I don’t have any classes with him today. Why did you ask?”

Chanyeol leaves the papers on the table, reminding himself to insert them back into the envelope once he’s done talking to his husband. He opts on walking to the living room, stretching his hands out as he joins the smaller man on the couch. “Oh, nothing. Just wondering.”

Baekhyun hums with a small smile, shifting as Chanyeol makes himself comfortable; hands sliding onto Baekhyun’s waist as he rests his chin on his husband’s shoulder. “Do _you_ have any plans for today?”

“Well…” Chanyeol clears his throat, watching as Baekhyun traces his fingertip on the bulging circles of the small book. Sunday mornings with Baekhyun have always been pleasant. Despite not spending much time with his husband like he used to back then, Chanyeol couldn’t deny that he missed the feeling of Baekhyun in his embrace, basking in the tranquillity of a lazy morning. 

Noticing the sudden silence and his unfinished sentence, Chanyeol supposes that Baekhyun senses the slight tension in the room as he puts his book down on the coffee table. He turns around in Chanyeol’s hold, snaking his arms around Chanyeol’s neck as he gently straddles his husband, sitting on his lap. “What is it?”

“Since you don’t have any classes and Jinah is on a day off, I was thinking that we could spend the whole day together, just the two of us.” Chanyeol says, absentmindedly caressing the sides of his husband’s waist. “We could go out, have lunch at that little restaurant you like. Or we could just stay in and order take-out.” 

He flutters his eyes closed as Baekhyun’s fingers run through his hair, tracing down to his cheekbones as he presses his thumbs on Chanyeol’s thick eyebrows. Chanyeol shivers at his husband’s touch, each press of his fingertips burning his skin. Baekhyun’s hands roam to Chanyeol’s ears, curling his slender fingers around them before he erupts into a bright fit of laughter when he playfully pulls on Chanyeol’s earlobe. 

Chanyeol chuckles, grinning as he grabs on his husband’s wandering hands. He sees Baekhyun’s smile once he opens his eyes, leaning in to place a soft kiss on his small husband’s awaiting lips. Baekhyun’s grip on his shoulders tightens as he slides his tongue into Chanyeol’s mouth, earning a sudden grunt from his husband. 

“So,” Chanyeol mumbles in between kisses, “What do you think?”

“I think—” Baekhyun gasps out the last word as Chanyeol presses his lips down his neck. “I think staying at home sounds nice.” 

“Great choice,” Chanyeol whispers as he smiles against Baekhyun’s pink lips, earning a startled laugh from the man as he wraps his legs around Chanyeol’s waist. 

As they kiss, stumbling here and there, struggling to grab on doorknobs, Chanyeol no longer notices that the Braille-transcribed divorce papers have left forgotten on the dinner table. 

Baekhyun inhales a gasp of breath once he pulls away, hands trembling as he clutches onto his husband. “You should really order that take-out.”

“I should,” Chanyeol says, pressing his small husband against the wall – his actions contradicting his own words. “Or should I just cook instead?”

Baekhyun tilts his head, seemingly pretending to make rash decisions before he nods, chewing on his bottom lip. Chanyeol is somehow thankful that his husband doesn’t get to see the way Chanyeol stares at his red bitten lips. “I don’t mind.” 

—

Baekhyun thinks his mouth would hurt if he continues to grin ever so widely, lips stretched in joy as his tall husband holds him in his arms since the morning sun appeared. His mind tells him that he’s being pathetic, feeling so happy and contented each time Chanyeol mouthed at his skin because Baekhyun has been waiting for this moment for _years_. Chanyeol is possibly – hopefully – coming back to him and Baekhyun could feel the tears brimming at his eyes, so happy after waiting for what felt like ages to come.

_ This _ , Baekhyun thinks as Chanyeol laughs against Baekhyun’s grin while he carries him to the kitchen and places him on the kitchen counter with Baekhyun’s thighs still attached to his husband’s hips. _This_ , he thinks; the absence of abrupt phone calls from work, no traces of Jinah, no frustrating silence. This was what he was waiting for. 

Perhaps, he hopes, Chanyeol has come to his senses. He imagines Chanyeol being surrounded by guilt, parting ways with his temporary pleasure with a mere goodbye, returning to his saddened blind husband’s embrace, each kiss translated into sorrowful apologies. As he hears Chanyeol beginning to cook for the two of them, Baekhyun imagines how their dysfunctional marriage would work once again – he imagines himself forgiving every single mistake Chanyeol left by the guestroom once Chanyeol kneels down. 

Baekhyun hums as he listens to the sounds of knives on chopping boards and vegetables sizzling on pans along with Chanyeol’s horrific singing. It’s all somehow too good to be true; it seems like he’s diving in a sudden memory of their past rather than experiencing reality. “What made you want to spend time with me today?”

His ears perk at the sound of Chanyeol washing his hands by the sink before he feels wet hands settling by his waist as Chanyeol welcomes himself in between Baekhyun’s legs. “I mean, it’s been a long time since we’re so… alone like this.” 

“I don’t think I need a reason to be spending time with my beautiful husband,” he hears the tinge of playfulness in Chanyeol’s teasing tone, feeling his husband’s lips slanting on his once again before he could even reply. 

_ It’s strange _ , the thoughts run through Baekhyun’s head. Chanyeol is acting strange, but strange is good – it’s good when Chanyeol gives him reassurance in each kisses pressed against his gaped mouth. He lets out a soft whimper when Chanyeol squeezes his thigh. His neck hurts from bending down to reach his husband’s lips, but Baekhyun doesn’t care. He craves for the attention that he deserves. 

Reluctantly, Baekhyun tries to pull away once he hears the faint hisses coming from the stove despite Chanyeol’s groans in protest. “What is it, Baekhyun? Come back here.”

Baekhyun chuckles, shoving Chanyeol’s face away as he covers his mouth to stifle his laugh. “I think something’s burnt.” 

“Shit,” he hears Chanyeol curse. “You’re right. Shit!” 

He throws his head back, laughing loud, almost hitting his head on the upper cabinet if he wasn’t careful enough. “I think we should just go on with that take-out idea.” 

Baekhyun spends the whole day caged in Chanyeol’s arms, leaning against his husband’s chest as Chanyeol watches his favourite television show, gasping in fascination whenever Baekhyun hears Sherlock making swift assumptions and conclusions to one of his mysteries. The smaller man traces his fingertips on Chanyeol’s clothed stomach, smiling in adoration each time Chanyeol curses at Professor Moriarty’s antics. 

“You know,” Baekhyun muses, tugging on the hem of Chanyeol’s sleeves to grab his attention. “At one point, I thought that this marriage wasn’t working anymore…”

He feels Chanyeol sitting up suddenly, his shirt rustling against the couch and Baekhyun’s sweater. Waiting for a response that never came, Baekhyun continues. “You were always so distant. I don’t blame you for that, I know you’re busy with your job, but… I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like you won’t even look at me. I feel like I’m just a chore, a responsibility to you instead of being your husband.” 

His husband clasps on his arm. “Baekhyun—”

“But that doesn’t matter anymore,” he flashes Chanyeol a small smile. “After today, I think all those bitter thoughts don’t matter anymore. I’ve waited so long to feel so loved by you like this. I… Thank you, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol’s grasp on his arm falters, and despite not being able to see, Baekhyun could feel Chanyeol’s gaze on him. 

He wants a response – a confirmation, a reassurance. He tries again. “I love you.” 

He doesn’t know what’s Chanyeol thinking, or why Chanyeol seemingly stopped breathing for a while before his breath hitches and he still keeps quiet, though his hands are cradling Baekhyun’s face gently. “Say something, Chanyeol…” 

His husband doesn’t say anything. Instead, Chanyeol pulls him in so fast that Baekhyun doesn’t even have the time to gasp. The sounds of Dr Watson and Sherlock’s arguments fall deaf on his ears, half eaten take-out food ignored on the coffee table as Chanyeol traces his name on the corners of Baekhyun’s mouth and the tip of his tongue. 

“I love you,” He hears Chanyeol whisper against his jaw as rough hands slide into his shirt, thumbs pressing onto his chest. His husband pulls away in order to take off his sweater in a hasty matter, each movement describes urgency for their lips to meet again. “I do.”

What’s next seems like a blur, a pitched dark scene in his eyes, murmurs of the television alongside his tall husband’s groans. Baekhyun grips on the couch so tight that he thinks his knuckles are turning pale, his husband’s mouth on his inner thigh so intense that it burns. He allows and he lets, bare legs trembling on Chanyeol’s shoulders. 

“Chanyeol,” he mouths in a silent scream, arching his back off the couch once Chanyeol thrusts in, panting by Baekhyun’s ears as he utters his name back. The sound of Chanyeol’s phone falling off the couch with a thud distracts him for a mere second, tugging on the strands on Chanyeol’s hair when he hears Chanyeol’s phone ringing. 

“Y-your phone,” he stutters, finding it hard to speak when Chanyeol remains unfaltering before the man hushes him with a peck on his lips. “It’s ringing.”

“I don’t care,” Chanyeol whispers, swallowing his screams with his mouth as he holds onto Baekhyun’s waist. “Nothing else matters, Baekhyun.” 

** From: Jinah **

_ One last day, Chanyeol. One last night. That’s all I’m giving you. _

In the middle of the night, or so he thinks, as he listens to his husband’s rhythmic breathing, Baekhyun lays awake. He feels sticky and full, a thin layer of sweat coating his skin and yet he couldn’t bring himself to care. The couch is too small to be fitting in two grown men, but he finds himself perfectly curled in Chanyeol’s embrace with his husband’s long legs tangled with his. 

Baekhyun blushes to himself when he realizes how sore his throat feels, squirming out of Chanyeol’s hold as his hands roam on the floor to search for his sweater. He hears Chanyeol grunting, trying to put him in place. “Stop moving.” 

“Let me go, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun laughs slightly, grabbing onto his sweater. “Let go of me, now. Just for a while.”

His husband shakes his head, stubborn, pulling him in closer as he palms at Baekhyun’s stomach. “Nope. Not going to.” 

“I’m just gonna grab a glass of water,” Baekhyun tries to reason with his husband. It’s like talking to a child. “It’s not like I’m leaving.” 

“You can’t,” Chanyeol murmurs sleepily before his hand falls back on the couch, no longer trapping Baekhyun in his arms. “You can’t leave….”

Baekhyun blindly touches Chanyeol’s cheek, endeared by the way Chanyeol leans into his warmth before he walks to the kitchen. He stumbles a little a long the way, catching the slight limp of his legs when he moves. Baekhyun stands on the tip of his toes to grab onto the glass, humming silently as he fills it with water. He chuckles when he hears Chanyeol’s snores coming from the living room. 

He almost knocks on the glass of water when he clumsily places it on the dining table, jumping a little in his place as he hurriedly stops the glass from falling. Baekhyun sighs when he feels the rustling of papers on the dining table, shaking his head at the thought of Chanyeol leaving all his paperwork on the table unarranged. 

His fingers freeze once they touch a particularly thick paper, curiously tracing the words typed in Braille. Baekhyun feels a sudden tug in his stomach when he mouths out the sentences. 

“A form of application…” Baekhyun whispers, hands shaking. “For divorce.” 

He can’t seem to stand on his legs much longer—not when he reads his own name on the form, next to his husband’s. Baekhyun falls onto his knees then, his glass of water shattering on the floor, next to his equally broken heart. 

* * *


	8. You're Pitiful

“You two seem rather close.”

Baekhyun stops stirring his peppermint tea. The grip of his thumb and forefinger holding the small spoon falters as it falls into the mug with a clink. It is the first time that he has heard Jinah starting a proper conversation with him, albeit the tone in her voice sounding a bit bitter. He tilts his head, confused by her words. “You ‘two’…?”

“That piano guy and you,” she says from the corner of the kitchen, probably cooking dinner—judging from the sounds of a kitchen knife chopping fresh vegetables on the wooden chopping board. “I saw him carry you all the way home the other day.” 

“That’s because we made a deal and I won, so he had to carry me.” Baekhyun laughs, recalling the way Jisoo whined when he lost. The way he had played Bohemian Rhapsody with the old piano that was extremely out of tune. “He’s a nice guy but he talks a lot most of the time…and ends up not even teaching me.” 

“Cute,” she breathes. There’s a short pause, and an obvious tension in the large space they sat in, before she speaks once more. “Both of you look good together—you two would even make a great couple, I’d say.” 

Baekhyun chuckles. Salt on his tongue and shards of glass on his fingertips. He raises the mug of tea nearer to his mouth, taking a sip as he smiles. “I suppose you – out of all people – would like that to happen, wouldn’t you…?” 

Jinah pauses once again, and this time, Baekhyun doesn’t waste his time by waiting. 

“I’m going to take a warm bath,” he says quietly, walking past her frozen figure, air blown cold on his tear-stricken face. 

Baekhyun dips himself further into the warmth of the lavender-scented bath, tilting his head back as he caresses his skin slowly, sighing in satisfaction. Fatigue seeps out of his tensed shoulders—it’s one of the rare times that Baekhyun gets to truly enjoy a quiet time for himself, without his constant anxious thoughts bothering him or giggles from the other room irritating him to no end. Baekhyun is sure that he is alone, soaking himself in the large bathtub, until he feels rough pads of fingers tracing his jaw, down to his neck. 

He tenses. “Chanyeol…?”

“Hey,” his husband exhales, fingers resting on Baekhyun’s nape. “Dinner’s ready. It has been... for like half an hour or so.”

“I’m not hungry.” Baekhyun shrugs, his legs sliding against each other as he wipes the lathers of soap down his thighs. “I think I’m just heading to bed after this.” 

“I need to talk to you—”

“Kiss me, please.” Baekhyun suddenly whispers, hands grasping tightly on Chanyeol’s necktie. He does not wait for a response, only tips Chanyeol’s chin up a little, pressing a kiss on his husband’s lips, chaste at first, but he eventually gets bolder when Chanyeol eases up, giving in, and arms snaking around Baekhyun’s naked waist. Water splashes onto his cheeks once Chanyeol enters the huge tub fully clothed, both of their mouths too occupied to complain.

Chanyeol’s suit is beyond soaked, but somehow neither of them cared. Chanyeol’s tongue feels heavy in his mouth, unfaithful hands groping around, and although the name his husband utters is his own, Baekhyun still feels like a cheap feast. He tries to focus on Chanyeol’s low and heavy breathing on his skin, but he only feels shame, disappointment—hurt when his husband’s hands roam clumsily with great reluctance. 

Despite his mind protesting his actions, Baekhyun whimpers as he feels Chanyeol’s tongue roaming in his mouth, hasty and dirty. 

“Baekhyun,” Chanyeol whispers against his skin, “Baby, what are you doing to me…?” 

He could feel his husband growing beneath him each time they move against each other in sync. The lavender-infused water creating small waves drags Baekhyun in further, deeper—so rough that he’s almost suffocated. Chanyeol’s belt and blazer thrown somewhere unknown as they lips meet in a hasty manner. Baekhyun’s arm snakes out to twist the knob of the shower, shivering when water hits them from above. 

“I love you,” Chanyeol utters once he slips his spidery fingers in, comforted by the way his husband leans in to rest his head on his shoulder, whimpering softly. “I love you, Baekhyun, I love you…” 

Baekhyun arches his back, wrapping his hands around Chanyeol’s neck when Chanyeol enters him in a smooth slide. His palms cradle his husband’s cheeks, chuckling lightly as he moans, “You brilliant liar…”

—

_ Poor Jinah, _ he thinks. Baekhyun wonders what the girl is up to, perhaps scrubbing plates of untouched food as she curses in anger, or sulking in the guestroom. Somehow, for Chanyeol, hurting one person was simply not enough. _Poor Jinah for having such a terrible, lying lover,_ Baekhyun thinks, as he lies wide awake next to his husband, who’s currently trailing the pads of his fingers on Baekhyun’s waist. 

He could feel the bright smile on Chanyeol’s mouth when their cheeks collide. Their bare legs wrapped with each other under the sheets of the warm bed, fingers intertwined resembling a somewhat pitiful torn rope holding onto the heavy, burdening weight of their scarred marriage. 

Chanyeol presses a long kiss on his forehead at one point, and Baekhyun assumes that it is the right time to ask the question that has been running in his mind, playing hide-and-seek with his fading sanity. 

“Have you signed the divorce papers yet?” Baekhyun asks, voice soft and slow, though the question burns at their skin, tears at their ears. He almost smirks when he feels Chanyeol’s hold on his body faltering. 

A pause. Then, a quick moment of silence, followed by a harsh slam of plates coming from the kitchen downstairs. Finally, Chanyeol’s voice breaks. “…What?”

“The divorce papers.” Baekhyun says. Simply, like asking him how sad the weather is. How pitiful their marriage is. “The one you left on the dining table. Have you signed them?” 

He couldn’t see the look on Chanyeol’s face when his tall husband suddenly pulls away from their embrace, sitting up on the bed. “How… How do you know…” 

“I’m just blind, Chanyeol. I’m not stupid,” he almost laughs. Pulling onto the bed sheets, Baekhyun pretends that the sheets represent his wall. He covers himself, nuzzling his cheek onto the smooth satin. “I know about the papers. I know about Jinah. Did you honestly think I’m that stupid not to know?” 

He hears the way his husband breathes heavily, hands trembling cold. Yet Chanyeol doesn’t say a word. Baekhyun chuckles. Chanyeol has never been good with words. 

“All these years, I’ve just been waiting. I’ve been waiting for you to come to your senses. To realize that this isn’t right, Chanyeol — sleeping with other women behind your husband’s back isn’t right. Why can’t you just tell me that you fell out of love?” Baekhyun keeps his tears at bay when he questions the unspoken. His grip on his wall tightens each time another question drips out of his pained mouth. 

“I didn’t fall out of love.” His husband finally replies, barely a whisper. Weak, terrified. Exposed and bare. “No… I didn’t. I didn’t, Baekhyun. I-It was a mistake.” 

“What? What’s a mistake? That woman who’s currently cleaning our kitchen for us, the same woman who you sleep with at night? That woman? Is she a mistake?” Baekhyun croaks out. Questions rolls out of his tongue endlessly, creating a rhythmic motion as if he’s reciting poetry. “Or this? Is this marriage a mistake? Is marrying someone—who you didn’t expect to turn blind after a year of a loving marriage—a mistake? Am I a mistake?” 

“Stop,” Chanyeol begs. It comes off as a pitiful, scared weep. “Stop, please.” 

“I waited, so long, Chanyeol. I gave you a silent chance. No... I gave you plenty of silent chances. I let you go behind my back to love someone else, hoping that one day you’ll realize this stupid mistake you’re making—cheating on me. For god’s sake, Chanyeol, I let you bring her into his house!” Baekhyun laughs like a maniac, tears falling by his cheeks uncontrollably. “Like an idiot, I hoped, and hoped, and waited, and waited for you to realize how much I love you and how I was willing to let this all slip if you just come back to me again…” 

Chanyeol’s cries fall deaf to his ears as he continues to stab both their hearts at once with the knife that his husband had gladly handed to him when he first started his act of sweet infidelity. 

“I miss my friends, C-Chanyeol, I… God, I miss my parents. I haven’t seen my parents in years since I married you. How could you do this to me, Chanyeol?” Baekhyun struggles to breathe as he states his misery and sufferings like he’s reading a grocery list. Pitiful. Weak. He’s weak. 

“You’re nothing but an abusive fuck—you—you were never a good husband to me. You trapped me in this house, you…” He inhales sharply, shoving Chanyeol’s shoulders as he lists out his husband’s mistakes. “You told me to quit my job, you didn’t want me to see other men and yet you dare make love to another woman in this house just because your husband has the disability to see!” 

“No… No, I’m sorry, Baekhyun, I’m sorry, I was stupid, I didn’t know what I was thinking.” Chanyeol tries to reach out for his hands. “Please, I love you, I never realized how much I love you, I’m sorry, please, please…” 

“Let go of me, Chanyeol.” He scoffs. “Let me go. Now.” 

The room fills itself with two grown men crying pitifully while another slam of plates erupts from the kitchen. 

Chanyeol’s voice shakes as well as his hands. “I’m not going to.”

“I’m leaving.” Baekhyun says. 

“You can’t…” His husband begs. “You can’t leave…”

“You’re right. I can’t.” He pauses, pushing Chanyeol’s hands away. “You. You should leave.”

Chanyeol freezes, his own tears falling onto Baekhyun’s fidgeting arms. 

“Leave, Chanyeol.”

He chuckles softly, shoving his husband away as he gets off the bed, dragging leaving the bed sheets, leaving his wall of security on the bed. “You’re sick of me being a burden, right? I’m giving you an easy way out, Chanyeol. You don’t have to sneak around to fuck Jinah in the guestroom anymore.”

“No, I’m not leaving, Baekhyun… We can talk about this.” Chanyeol stands up as well, yanking on his wrist before he pulls him into his arms, ignoring Baekhyun’s slaps on his chest.

“You broke my heart and you broke my trust.” Baekhyun cries, defeated. He could feel Chanyeol shaking his head as he kisses the top of Baekhyun’s hair, mumbling apologies endlessly. “I’m giving you a chance to leave.” 

With one last kiss pressed onto his forehead, Baekhyun pulls away, wiping at his tears. 

“You’re an evil, mean heartbreaker,” he whispers, “And I’m done being your blind laughing stock.” 

* * *


	9. Home Is Far Away

It amuses him how despite facing the worst situation a heartbroken person could be in, he still feels like laughing. Baekhyun and his husband remain lying there on their loveless bed like two breathing corpses. No words were spoken; only a few intakes of breath could be heard from time to time because they were both suffocated. Two pathetic men pretending that no hearts and dinner plates were shattered from their last argument. 

Baekhyun hears Chanyeol shifting on the bed, but he’s still so far away, just like he has always been. Chanyeol is about one arm stretched away, yet Baekhyun couldn’t deny the amount of disgust settled in his palm for him to have the guts to reach out. It seemed like Jinah has left an hour ago, slamming the door of his house like it’s her own, but the way the front door slammed doesn’t make him flinch just as much as their bedroom door did when Chanyeol dashed out after her. 

His own mouth tastes the hopeless lies Chanyeol slipped under his tongue when they kissed that evening, how Baekhyun’s unfaithful husband easily lets his tears fall and beg, and beg, and beg for Baekhyun not to leave, only for him to walk away the moment he hears his hidden lover walk out that door. It’s a harsh reality that slammed Baekhyun in his face harder than the front door did, and he could not do anything but laugh when Chanyeol returned with two broken hearts in his hands, panting harshly. 

Baekhyun is exhausted. Slapping his hands and hitting his fists on Chanyeol’s chest wouldn’t make the man bend down and gather his crystal glass of a broken heart when all Chanyeol has done was polish the trophies of secrets he has on his shelf the moment Baekhyun’s disability somehow burdened him. He hears Chanyeol breathe, and in that second, he feels silly for even hating the sound of his husband inhaling. 

“I want to go home, to my parents,” he murmurs in the dark. “Take me home to my parents.” 

Chanyeol doesn’t protest like he did earlier that day. He doesn’t cry, he no longer begs, he doesn’t try to hold Baekhyun’s hand. It seemed like giving up when Chanyeol simply complies without a fight. “Okay... I will.” 

“Is that it?” Baekhyun asks, attacked by a sudden surge of anger in his spine. “This evening, you begged to stay before she walked out of that door and now you want to let me go? That was all it took? For your… your lover to leave…?”

“Baekhyun, I don’t know where she is…” Chanyeol whispers.

“I’m your _husband_!” He snaps, so loud that his own voice rings in his ears and he hates himself for it. “How can you lay there and worry about someone else when your husband is sitting next to you trying to wonder how did the love of his life fall in love with someone else so easily…? Chanyeol… Chanyeol, how… just how did you fall out of love so easily when the only person I love is you…?” 

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” Chanyeol says, sounding helpless as though he’s the victim of the situation. 

“At least pretend like you care! That’s the least you could do for me when I gave up my whole life just to marry you!” Baekhyun curls up at the corner of the bed, digging his nails into his knees. Chanyeol’s breath hitches. The man moves on the bed, shifting closer to him before Baekhyun pushes him away. “I’m your husband, Chanyeol… but who is she to you? Just how much does she mean to you to the point where you left your husband to run after her…?”

Baekhyun is left hanging when Chanyeol falls into total silence. It’s useless to be speaking to his husband like this, when his questions go unanswered and Baekhyun feels like he’s being abandoned all over again because the bedroom is too quiet. 

“She’s my fiancée…” Chanyeol finally hands him an answer, voice so soft that Baekhyun almost doesn’t hear him. 

But he manages to. And he regrets asking that particular question in the first place. Baekhyun is out of tears by now, breathless when he tries to speak. “What…?”

His fiancée. His husband has a fiancée, the one he brought home and introduced to him as his new caretaker. The beautiful girl whose scent resembles Chanyeol on sleepless midnights, the one Baekhyun dismisses as Chanyeol’s temporary pleasure turns out to be someone who mattered more to Chanyeol than Baekhyun does. 

“Your fiancée,” Baekhyun says, more to himself, like he’s trying to comprehend how much this girl means to his beloved husband. “Did you even think of how I would feel when you proposed to her…? Does she know that you have a _husband_ when she said yes?”

Chanyeol doesn’t have to answer him. Baekhyun knows the truth by now, only disbelief and betrayal hovering over his shoulders. He scoffs as he cries once more, wiping his cheek before the beads of tears could drop. 

“All you do is hurt me,” Baekhyun covers his sobs with the back of his hand, too tired to swat Chanyeol’s hand that’s resting on his knee. “You could’ve just told me that you didn’t love me anymore. Tell me the truth, Chanyeol; when Jinah wasn’t home the other day and we spent the whole day together, when you held me in your arms and told me you loved me, did you even mean it at all…?”

_ He’s hesitating,  _ Baekhyun could hear whispers in his head. _He’s hesitating, he’s not answering, he’s hesitating, he’s hesitating, he’s hesitating..._

“Of course I meant it,” Chanyeol croaks out. It surprises him a little how Chanyeol sounds like he’s pained, but who was he kidding? Chanyeol deserves to feel pain after all he has put Baekhyun through. “That time, when she wasn’t there, it was like we were back to how we were five years ago—when we didn’t have anything to worry about, when you truly looked at me and everything wasn’t revolved around you—it was revolved around us.” 

Baekhyun stops covering his face with his palms, letting his arms fall onto the mattress as he listens. 

“Everything’s changed, Baekhyun… The moment that accident happened all those years ago, everything just changed.” Chanyeol’s hands somehow manage to tenderly hold his, and this is what he’s frightened about. He’s scared if he’d let himself accept this man right away just by a touch of a fingertip, because that’s how much Chanyeol affects him. “Everything was about you, everyone around me felt sorry for _you_ , and then they started to feel sorry for me to have to take care of you when you were trying to adapt to your disability, they made me feel like I wasn’t your husband—”

“It didn’t matter what they said if we loved each other! I _never_ stopped loving you—not even once, Chanyeol!” How dare he lie and cheat, and try to turn the tables to make it seem like Baekhyun was the villain who stomped on their marriage? “I got hit by a car on our anniversary, Chanyeol! I had to go through the worst days of my life, injuring my head so hard I turned fucking blind! Why are you acting like I turned blind on purpose when you know that it killed me to not be able to look at my husband anymore? Why… Why are you trying to imply that I was the one who caused this mess to happen when you… you were planning on marrying someone else behind my back…?” 

He doesn’t sit there and wait for any response, only carries himself out of the room and ignores Chanyeol’s calls of his name. The guestroom still reeks of Jinah and drunken giggles. Baekhyun has no options but to lay wide awake on the bed, refusing to be in the same room as someone who has betrayed him so greatly. 

—

He doesn’t need to roam his hands around the mattress to know that he’s back to lying on the bed of his own room. Perhaps Chanyeol carried him back to their room after he fell asleep, or perhaps he walked to their room in his sleep because that’s how attached he is to that sad excuse of a husband he has. He refuses to think about it, only listens to the sound of the shower running and tugs the bed sheet closer to his face, trying to savor the last bits of his marriage that he, once, didn’t struggle to hold onto. 

Chanyeol tells him that he’ll be waiting by the dining room before he leaves Baekhyun alone in the room to get ready, as if he’s excited to see Baekhyun go. Baekhyun doesn’t do anything but nod, and immediately removes his wedding band from his ring finger, unable to hold onto the heavy weight that the ring holds. He places it gently on the dresser, oblivious to the similar wedding band left untouched on the edge of the furniture for months. 

Baekhyun doesn’t bring his luggage with him—he doesn’t feel the need to. Everything left in their house would only remind him of the pain that he didn’t deserve to feel. He only grabs his walking stick and his phone, and he doesn’t respond when Chanyeol asks him about the missing ring on his finger. 

His parents were only an hour drive away, yet he’s never seen them in years. Chanyeol’s possessiveness grew more and more suffocating each year, yet now he’s allowing Baekhyun to return to his parents’ embrace without any objections. It’s rather funny when Baekhyun thinks about it—or at least, he’s trying to laugh the hurting out. 

“Don’t,” Baekhyun says when he hears Chanyeol unbuckling his seatbelt once they’ve arrived. The car ride was a piercing silence of unspoken words, both still reeling from the harsh impact of the conversation they had. Or at least, Baekhyun is. “I don’t want you to see them. Just go.” 

He could hear droplets of rain falling onto the roof of the car when he unfolds his walking stick and wastes no time getting out of the car. Chanyeol only tells him to take care of himself, and that he would be there whenever Baekhyun wants to come back home. Baekhyun couldn’t get rid of the feeling that his husband would probably dash off to search for Jinah the moment Baekhyun walks to his parents’ front gate. But he doesn’t care. Or at least, he’s trying not to. 

The rain doesn’t simmer down, only grows louder and stronger each time Baekhyun presses onto the doorbell. His heart is almost beating out of his chest, and Baekhyun doesn’t know whether to cry or smile, so he settles on doing both. How would his parents react? Would they look at him with pity, or would they run to him and pull him into a warm hug after seeing their long-lost son? 

Baekhyun taps his walking stick on the ground where water turns into dirt puddles. The rain is cold on his skin, but none of that matter once he hears the clinking of keys and the sound of the front door creaking. He straightens up with a gentle smile, not knowing how to react. 

“Who’s there?” Comes a honey-coated voice from the front door, and Baekhyun clenches onto his walking stick tightly. 

“Mom…” He breathes. “It’s… It’s your son, Baekhyun.”

The woman gasps before she yells his father’s name—that’s when Baekhyun knows he’s home. The front gate opens with a slam, and Baekhyun almost runs inside. “Mom, dad! It’s me… I-I missed you so much!”

“What are you doing here?” His father asks, voice as cold as the rain. Baekhyun stiffens. “I don’t have a son.”

“D-Dad…” Baekhyun tries to reach out, but his hand is slapped away.

“My son was dead the moment he ran away with another man,” his father spits, and Baekhyun could almost feel how badly his heart is tearing. It tears even more when he doesn’t hear his mother protesting, and it tears once again when he knows that he won’t get to see the look on her face. “My son abandoned his family to marry a man and he’s dead to me now. What are you still doing here? Leave!”

“But dad—” he chokes on his sobs, trying to at least hold his parents’ hands again, but only receives a harsh push against his shoulder before he falls onto the puddle of water. Baekhyun desperately roams his hands on the dirtied ground to search for his walking stick, but it’s kicked away before Baekhyun gets to hold onto it. 

“Don’t you dare step your foot into this house!” His father’s voice booms over the loud rain and the sound of the front gate closing. 

Baekhyun crawls to the gate as the pouring rain drench him whole, begging his parents to listen. “Dad, please! Mom! Mom, I’m sorry! I’m sorry… I’m… I’m sorry…”

The front door closes with a shut, and Baekhyun continues to beg in front of the gate even though his apologies go unheard. “Please…”

In a span of one day. His husband leaves him for another, and his parents refuse to look at him, and he feels like he has lost everything.

In a span of one day. 

* * *


	10. Rain Sound

He doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting there, sobbing occasionally. The rain has long stopped, but Baekhyun doesn’t have the heart to stand up and walk away just yet. He brings his knees closer to his chest as he leans against the gate, unsure of the time, unsure whether the sky turned dark or he’s still in the afternoon. His hair is wet, his shirt drenched, his heart washed away by the rain. Just when he tries to warm himself with his palms, he hears the gate opening slightly with a creaking sound. There’s a thick piece of fabric draped over his trembling body, and Baekhyun, despite being surprised, caves into the warmth like moth to light. 

“Oh dear…” Baekhyun hears a familiar voice sigh. His mother’s hands adjust the blanket on his shoulders before Baekhyun, afraid of being rejected again, backs away in panic. She stops him with a hush as he feels her pulling him into her embrace. “It is okay, Baekhyun. It’s okay now.” 

“M… Mom,” Baekhyun croaks out. His hands shake in her hold. “Mom…” 

“I’m sorry, son,” she says, voice on the verge of crying. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you from your father… I-I didn’t know what to do, this was so sudden, and I was too shocked to see you… You… After five years…” 

Baekhyun shakes his head and tries to smile, wanting to show her that he’s thankful enough that someonestill had faith in him. His arms tighten around her plump waist like a pathetic way to prove how sorry he was for abandoning his own mother to leave with his lover. “No, mom, _I’m_ sorry… I left and never came back—I… I was selfish and stubborn, please forgive me…”

“Shh, it’s okay,” she rubs his back soothingly before she helps him to stand up. She then hands him his walking stick with a light caress of her hands on his palms. “Come, let’s go inside. Your father is taking a nap, so we’ll enter the house quietly, yes?”

Baekhyun swallows the lump in his throat, stopping. “Does he… hate me?”

His mother turns quiet for a moment, and Baekhyun knows this silence all too well as it mirrors the strangling silence in his own house as well. It is hesitance, heavy on her lips, preventing her to say something that she’s afraid might hurt him. “It’s okay if he hates me, mom. I deserve it.”

“No, no, honey, he doesn’t hate you. Don’t say that,” she sighs. “He’s just very upset. His son left him for five years without a word, didn’t invite him to his own wedding and never called or visited. He was overwhelmed when he saw you earlier, I suppose… He needs the time to warm up to you.”

Baekhyun feels his chest constricting, slammed with the realization of how cruel he was to his parents. His dad is right; he abandoned them for another man and he didn’t even invite _his own parents_ to his wedding. Now, as his marriage crumbles, he tries to crawl back into his parents’ home, uninvited. It isn’t such a wonder if his parents would end up despising their one and only son. He feels so ashamed that he wants to turn around and run away, but running away again wouldn’t solve anything. Instead, he grips onto his walking stick and nods. “I understand.” 

He could sense the warm smile blooming on his forgiving mother’s face as she tugs onto his sleeve, inviting him into the house he grew up in.

—

It’s still raining.

He’s not very sure how long it has been raining. It seems like the rain will never stop. Makes it difficult to see especially when one is driving. The man on the radio is murmuring about a lost child and Chanyeol twists the volume button into complete silence because it’s hard for him to concentrate. He doesn’t have time to think about the rain, the road or a lost child. Not when he’s not even sure where he is heading to. The wedding band on his finger glistens when Chanyeol drives to the side in order to pull over. Wasn’t it kept on the dresser? In his pockets? He doesn’t remember when he’d put it back on. 

Driving gets difficult when you’re heading towards the past.

He can still remember it vividly, so clear in his mind that he can actually describe it word by word. How the accident happened five years ago. How he had one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his husband’s lap. How he glanced to his husband and actually saw the vehicle coming towards them. It brought him to tears every time he thought about it, but now, as he leans against the driver’s seat, staring at his wedding ring, Chanyeol wonders what would happen if Baekhyun had been the one driving and he was the one on the passenger seat, with Baekhyun’s hand placed on his lap.

There’s something unpleasant settling deep in his gut. 

The rain, the road, the lost child. 

The broken home, the fiancée, the husband. 

Chanyeol forces himself to burst into a fit of loud laughter, alone in his car, wedding band in his hands and rain against his window. He laughs, and laughs, until he can’t take it anymore, well aware of the tears in his eyes and on his cheeks. He’s not someone’s fiancée. He’s not a good husband. He has never been a great son, he’s a corrupted lawyer and a bad friend. 

_ If the hit-and-run that happened five years ago turned out differently _ , he thinks as he laughs. If he had been the one in the passenger seat, grinning at Baekhyun who was driving, would the other man glance at him and notice the other car speeding up towards them? If so, Baekhyun would’ve been fine. Chanyeol would’ve turned blind. He would’ve stayed useless and pathetic in their home for years, seen as a burden. Unaware of a cheating husband and a lying caretaker. Baekhyun had his piano, but Chanyeol? If Chanyeol was the one who turned blind, what would he have? Greed. Ego. Lust?

The laughter dies out. The inside of his brand-new car only occupied with his cries as Chanyeol brings his head into his hands. He doesn’t know what he has done. He doesn’t know how to fix the mess he made. As Chanyeol sits alone in his car, crying, he feels as if he’s a child. Deep under this successful, egoistic lawyer façade, the old him who only had Baekhyun in his mind is still there. 

The law student boy who was head over heels for Byun Baekhyun – the one who cheered with joy when Baekhyun accepted his confession. Palms always full of flowers for the only boy who occupied his head. Baekhyun, who snuck out of his house at night to help Chanyeol revise his notes for his bar exam. Baekhyun, who paid for lunch when Chanyeol was just a poor law student who could barely afford a drink. Baekhyun, who became his husband and turned blind. Baekhyun, who eventually became a burden. A barrier between Chanyeol and his newfound love-story with another woman. 

He stares at his reflection in the rear-view mirror. Cheeks red, splotched with tears. It’s like he can’t recognize himself anymore. He glances to the empty passenger seat. One hand on the steering wheel and the other on Baekhyun’s lap with the other man smiling softly at him, reaching up to wipe away his tears. It feels too real. Too vivid. 

_ If the hit-and-run that happened five years ago turned out differently,  _ Chanyeol thinks as he places his palm on the vacant passenger seat. Baekhyun would’ve been fine. Chanyeol would’ve turned blind and Baekhyun would have still stayed. With his piano hands, soft smile and pure heart.

“I’m sorry,” Chanyeol chokes out, voice muffled by his hands. “Baekhyun, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

The rain, the road, the lost child.

There’s something unpleasant settling deep in his gut. 

The piano boy, the law student, the heartbroken husband.

_ There’s something wrong _ .

But no one can hear him. Only the rain. The road. 

No one else can hear his cries now. 

Only him, the lost child. 

—

His cup of tea has turned cold. Baekhyun still sips on it anyway, smiling slightly when he hears his mother humming pleasantly. His father is still asleep upstairs, but Baekhyun is growing more and more anxious as time goes by. Surely his father wouldn’t let Baekhyun stay over despite his mother’s silent request. Baekhyun _wants_ to stay. But he can’t imagine going through another episode of rejection, kicked out of the house by his own father. He craves to sleep on his old bed, in his old room, in his mother’s embrace. He knows that he can’t – not just yet. 

“Baekhyun,” his mother sighs, exasperated. “Please, stay. I will talk to your father about this.”

“Mom… I can’t. I want to, but I can’t,” he reaches out his hand blindly onto the table, patting for warmth until his mother’s hand rests on top of his. “He can’t bear seeing me for now. I understand that. I just don’t think I can handle it if he ever kicks me out again.” 

“He won’t, son. I promise you that, please, just stay.” The woman grips his hand tightly, not wanting to let go. Baekhyun doesn’t want her to let go, either. “Please, Baekhyun. There’s something wrong. I feel uneasy. Where else will you go if you don’t stay here?”

He wishes he could stay. To turn 18 again and forget everything that had happened. But the scratch on his arm that bled after his father pushed him to the ground in the rain that evening proves that he has to go. Perhaps go back to his unfaithful husband. Or back to the front gate of his parents’ house. He’s isolated and unwanted either way. 

“I’ll be okay,” he smiles. “I know a friend. I can get some sleep at my friend’s place and tomorrow morning, I’ll come here again. I will beg for father’s forgiveness again.” 

He hears her sighing once more. His mother taps her fingers on the kitchen table and finally agrees. “All right. But promise me you’ll come back here in the morning, young man. I’m not going to lose my child _again_.”

_ Young man _ , he thinks and laughs lightly.

“I promise.” Baekhyun says. “Can I borrow your phone for a while?” 

“Of course, son.” She replies. “Are you going to call your husband?”

He gently shakes his head.

—

They part with Baekhyun’s chin cradled in his mother’s small hands when it’s time for Baekhyun to leave. He feels like crying once again, but he doesn’t. He’s extremely grateful that the love of a mother never dies. He laughs when his mother fills his cheeks with quick kisses, groaning embarrassingly. “Mom, I’ll be fine!”

“I just missed my son so much.” She pauses for a while before she pats his head. “You’ve grown up very well. My handsome young boy.” 

Baekhyun simply grins, placing his walking stick back into his pockets when he feels arms guiding him towards a car. “I’ll see you tomorrow, mother.”

“Take good care of my son, Baekhyunnie’s friend,” his mother says to the man beside him, who chuckles in return. “Make sure he comes back here tomorrow.”

He can barely cover his grin when he enters the car. Reuniting with his mother feels surreal. He hasn’t seen her for years, and yet she’s still here, accepting him whole despite him returning home all flawed. Baekhyun hums happily along to the song played on the radio as the car drives away. He hears the man in the driver’s seat laughing. 

“I know you’re happy, but can you just fasten your seatbelt first, please?” Yifan teases playfully. 

Baekhyun immediately puts his seatbelt on and stops humming abruptly. “Are you sure it’s okay if I stay over at your place for the night?”

“It’s more than okay,” he hears the man exhale. “Anything for you, Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun rubs his hands together, not knowing how to respond, but thankful for shelter nonetheless. “Okay. It’ll only be for a while though. I’ll go back to my parents’ place tomorrow morning and maybe… I’ll talk to Chanyeol again about everything.” 

“No,” Yifan suddenly says, holding onto his arm. “It’s all right, Baekhyun. You can stay over at my place for as long as you like. I know how you’re not on great terms with Chanyeol right now, so you’re welcome to stay over at my place anytime.” 

“Thank you,” he replies. “I appreciate it. I’m going through a very tough time right now, I’m just glad I have my mom…and you.” 

“Anything for you,” Yifan repeats, tightening his grip on Baekhyun’s arm as he drives away. 

The drive from his parents’ home to Yifan’s place doesn’t take too long. And once they arrive, Baekhyun is more than exhausted. It’s been such a long day for him. He would’ve collapsed if it wasn’t for Yifan who held onto him as they walk into Yifan’s house. The man guides him into his house slowly, careful to avoid the things thrown mindlessly on the floor. Yifan chuckles sheepishly, apologizing. “Sorry, the place is a mess.”

“It’s okay. Lucky for you, I can’t even see the mess.” Baekhyun jokes. 

Yifan leads him to the couch and tells him to wait as he gets him a warm glass of water. He feels Yifan ruffling his hair as he waits for Baekhyun to finish drinking. “I’ll prepare some clothes for you. Hold on.”

“Thanks again, Yifan.” Baekhyun says. He’s a little ashamed for staying over someone’s place uninvited, although Yifan sounded excited when Baekhyun asked if he could stay over for the night. They’re not too close, and for Baekhyun to barge in and stay… It might seem a little rude on his part. 

“It’s no problem,” Yifan says as he returns and places a pair of clothing onto Baekhyun’s lap. “Here. It’s just a sweater and some pants. I hope you don’t mind.”

The fabric of the sweater feels warm and familiar against his fingertips. Baekhyun smiles in delight. “I don’t mind. So, I’ll sleep on the couch, then?”

Yifan laughs loudly for a while, startling him. “The couch? Are you crazy? Of course not!”

“Where else?” Baekhyun awkwardly laughs along. “The couch is comfy enough. I’ll be fine over here.”

“I have a guestroom, silly.” Yifan takes his hand. They walk somewhere further before Yifan stops in front of what seems like a door. 

He doesn’t ask why he hears a jingle of keys being used to unlock a door of a guestroom. Baekhyun only smiles gratefully when Yifan allows him to enter the room and take a seat on the bed. 

“You can sleep here,” Yifan tells him. “If you need anything, just yell out for me. My bedroom is just next door.”

Baekhyun nods. “Okay. Goodnight, Yifan.”

The man pauses for a while and the room is filled with silence before Yifan chuckles. “Goodnight, Baekhyun.”

After Yifan closes the door shut, Baekhyun lies on the bed without even changing his clothes. He’s too tired to think. Too heartbroken to feel. 

Too distracted to feel the fabric of his old white sweater in his hands. 

Too blind to see his own pictures pasted on the walls. 

Too blind to see Chanyeol’s pictures torn and ripped on the floor. 

* * *


	11. What If...

_ 2011 _

“Chanyeol, hurry, we’re going to be late!” 

He could hear his husband blabbering away from the kitchen downstairs. Chanyeol remained standing in front of the mirror, fixing his tie. He could hear Baekhyun calling for him once more, this time with the sound of the tap water running occupying his husband’s hurried yell. Chanyeol hummed loudly on purpose, but still continued to stand there, in front of the mirror, staring at himself. He smoothened the crumpled bits on the hem of his suit and fixed his hair to appear more pleasant. Chanyeol barely noticed the sound of footsteps coming towards the bedroom, and he jumped slightly when he felt a pair of arms making their way around his waist. 

“What’s taking you so long, baby?” his husband asked. Chanyeol could feel him resting his cheek against Chanyeol’s back. “It’s half past six already.”

“Just a minute…” Chanyeol replied, still in the midst of fixing his hair. “I need to look perfect for our anniversary.”

When his husband laughed, Chanyeol could feel his whole universe vibrating along with the man’s laughter. He smiled as he stared at Baekhyun’s reflection in the mirror when the man stood on his tip toes and placed his chin on Chanyeol’s shoulder. With rough fingers sticky with hair gel, he rubbed his hands on his pants when he finally felt satisfied with how he looked. Spinning around in his husband’s embrace, Chanyeol pressed a quick kiss on the man’s forehead before he took him by the hand. He was about to walk out of the bedroom, husband in tow, when Baekhyun stopped and gently pulled him by his arm.

“Hold on,” his husband murmured, then he stayed quiet. Just looking at Chanyeol with a soft smile on his lips and palms pressed against Chanyeol’s both cheeks, almost squishing them. He continued to stare at Chanyeol’s eyes – his relentless gaze travelled from Chanyeol’s brown orbs to his ears, to his chin, then to his lips before he returned to his eyes. “Just let me look at you for a moment.”

Chanyeol’s heart thumped steadily in his chest, legs so wobbly he thought they could fall off when Baekhyun is staring at him like that. Like Chanyeol meant the world to him. He grinned at the gorgeous man and decided to tease him for a split second. “Handsome, huh?”

His husband didn’t hesitate when he answered. “Definitely.” 

The burn on his cheeks didn’t disappear even when they were heading towards Chanyeol’s car. He walked slowly, watching as Baekhyun unlocks the car from afar. Hands in the pockets of his suit, hair styled upwards, simple smile on his lips. Baekhyun noticed his gaze eventually, raising one brow towards his way. “Want me to drive?”

“Nah, I’ll drive.” Chanyeol replied. He almost dropped the key after his husband carelessly tossed it to him, then got into the passenger seat. Chanyeol chuckled, shaking his head at the man’s antics before he joined him in their car. 

The restaurant that Chanyeol struggled to make dinner reservations at was a little further than they expected. His co-workers have been talking about the food and the wonderful service all week and he thought that it would be a great opportunity to celebrate his first-year anniversary with Baekhyun at that very restaurant. The cars on the road were moving too slowly and his stomach is growling, but listening to Baekhyun sing as his favorite song played on the radio made Chanyeol grin, reaching out to ruffle the man’s hair and purposely mess it up. 

“Stop doing that,” Baekhyun grumbled. He waited until the car stopped due to traffic and took the chance to pull onto Chanyeol’s strands of hair that he took hours to style. Chanyeol didn’t mind – only laughed and pushed the man away playfully, wiping the excess hair gel onto the man’s cheek. 

When the cars began to move again, Chanyeol spoke. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

His husband nodded, staring ahead. Chanyeol glanced to the man for a split second before he cleared his throat. 

“When we adopt a daughter… in the future,” Chanyeol began, “What should we name her?”

Baekhyun chuckled softly beside him. “ _That’s_ what you wanted to ask? Gosh, you sounded so serious, I thought I should be worried that something might happen.”

“Come on, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol whined. The topic of adopting children is not something foreign – they’ve talked about it from time to time and discussed that they’re very much capable of adopting children. The only thing they didn’t talk about was the children’s names. 

“All right, all right… Let me think.” Baekhyun hummed. Chanyeol’s heart was almost bursting out of his chest again, a kind of feeling he couldn’t really describe. There they were, in their car, discussing about their future together. The fact that he’d really spend his entire life with this man by his side still seemed surreal to him. 

“Does Jieun sound nice?” Baekhyun asked. Voice soft, full of hesitation, as if Chanyeol would hate the name he had suggested. His hands were busy playing with his seatbelt and Chanyeol grinned, sweet and bright, placing his palm on his husband’s lap as the car stopped on the wide road. 

“It sounds beautiful, baby,” Chanyeol told him. Baekhyun exhaled in relief, then his hand rose up to touch Chanyeol’s cheekbone. “I love it.”

“Jieun,” Baekhyun whispered one more time, staring at him. 

The light turned green then, but the cars were too slow. Time moved slowly, but Chanyeol couldn’t bring himself to complain. Not when Baekhyun was here, smiling, delighted about their future together. Time seemed to stop when Chanyeol kept driving, one hand on the steering wheel and the other placed on his husband’s lap. He stole a glance at his husband once again, about to drown in his eyes when he noticed the jet-black car coming towards them. 

Time always seemed to stop when he’s with Baekhyun. 

Time truly stopped then. When Baekhyun’s soft smile quickly turned into a confused frown, perhaps wondering what Chanyeol seemed so horrified about. He didn’t have the chance to turn and look at the other way when Chanyeol pulled him by the hand, screaming out his name. Then time seemed to move too swiftly. Baekhyun’s favorite song was still playing on the radio when Chanyeol felt a harsh slam, glasses shattering, with his head bumping against the airbag that popped out before he fell into total darkness. 

When he began to gain consciousness, the smoke coming from the car was strangling him. The sounds of his own cough fell deaf to his ears, and despite his blurred sight, he could see people crowding around the wrecked car. Chanyeol brought his hand to his head, trembling with terror when he witnessed blood. He couldn’t bring himself to look on his left. The possibly crushed passenger seat. He couldn’t hear the crowd’s terrified gasps, but the sound of droplets of red dripping off his husband’s fingers was too loud for him to ignore. 

“B…Baekhyun…” he tried to reach out, hands shaking. 

His husband remained unconscious. Eyes shut closed, tanned skin bleeding red, anniversary suit torn apart and beautiful fingers scarred. Chanyeol pushed himself out of his seat, eyes watering as he cradled his husband in his embrace. His hand trembled so harshly it became hard to wipe away the blood on his husband’s head. 

“B-Baekhyun, please, wake up,” He tapped the man’s cheek lightly, panicking when he couldn’t feel the man’s heart beating. “No… B…Baekhyun, baby, please, no, just wake up, please…”

The paramedic and policemen pulled him away from his husband when they came, and Chanyeol felt powerless. He cried out for his husband who was hurriedly taken away, but his voice was drowned by the sounds of sirens and terrified screams. 

“My husband…” Chanyeol tugged on the policeman’s hand, choking on his cries. “P-Please save my husband… He wasn’t breathing… Please…” 

He failed to hear anything else. Time seemed to move on. The paramedic team seemed to panic when he failed to listen as his eyes threatened to close, emotional shock pulling him towards unconsciousness once again before his whole world turned pitch black. 

—

_ 2015 _

Chanyeol wakes up with a scream. 

The past is haunting him again. It seems like he can’t avoid it anymore. He sits up on his bed, rubbing his eyes before he realizes that he’s been crying. The other side of the bed is too cold for him to lie on, but he does so anyway. It’s the closest thing he can get to feel Baekhyun’s presence again. His husband’s scent plastered on the sheets along with his tears and it makes Chanyeol want to laugh how he’s been trying so hard to avoid Baekhyun when he was still here. Now, as their home is only filled with the sounds of his cries, Chanyeol truly realizes he’s all alone.

* * *


	12. Through The Night

_ Chanyeol. _

He still hears Baekhyun calling out for him. Chanyeol can’t seem to fall asleep – not when the sound of the clock ticking is too loud, ringing in his ears. Not when he feels like Baekhyun is right there beside him. Crying, laughing, calling out his name, screaming at him. He rubs his eyes, looking at the wall clock. Six in the morning. There’s a soft snore coming from Baekhyun’s side of the bed, but Chanyeol can’t bear to look at her anymore.

Somewhere in between three and four in the morning, Jinah came knocking on his door again. Crying, calling out his name, pleading to him. He only stood by the door, staring at her and recalling how he used to abandon his husband for her. Brought her into his house. Kissed her, touched her, laughed against her skin. He lied and betrayed on her behalf. As Jinah wept on his front door, Chanyeol felt the urge to vomit. He felt sick with himself. He invited her in, still. Guided her to the guestroom and didn’t say anything else. 

Yet here she is, sleeping next to him in his room. She must’ve crept into the room while he was sleeping. He feels a bile coming up in his throat and he has to cover his mouth harshly to make it stop. Chanyeol stares at the woman once more, this time with tears suddenly brimming in his eyes. He can’t stay here anymore. Not when the sound of Baekhyun’s heartbroken cries are still repeating in his ears. Not when he can see Baekhyun’s shadow lurking at every corner he turns to. 

He grabs his phone and wallet by the bed stand and puts on his long coat, giving the sleeping woman a final look before he walks out and slams the door to his car. There’s something tugging at his conscience but he shakes it away, driving off to find his husband. The one-hour drive to Baekhyun’s parents only feels like half a minute when he’s surrounded by so many thoughts and possibilities, not even noticing how the sun has appeared long ago. 

His phone rings and vibrates on the passenger seat. Chanyeol glances at it to see Jinah’s number glaring at him along with the alarming ringtone. He shakes his head, trying to ignore the ringing of the phone and trying to focus on driving. More calls erupt the moment the other calls ended, with text messages clicking and clicking in, but none of them are about Baekhyun. He doesn’t bother.

He stops when he approaches the familiar house he sent Baekhyun to just yesterday, staring at the old woman gardening by the small grass in front of the gate. Her movements are slow and sullen, pulling out weeds with hands filled with soil. Chanyeol takes in a deep breath before he gets out of the car and approaches her. He takes note of his disheveled hair and swollen eyes, but he figures that it doesn’t matter. 

“Excuse me,” he greets the woman hesitantly. 

She turns to him with a surprised smile, wiping the dirt off her gloved hands. “Yes, how may I help you?”

“I…” his words drift off as he takes a look at the house. Baekhyun is possibly just in there, sleeping or having breakfast. Maybe he’s bonding with his father, or maybe he’s just taking a shower. “You must be Baekhyun’s mother.”

The woman seems startled for a while before she slowly nods. “I am.”

She doesn’t say anything else after, but the questioning glint in her eyes demand answers. He clears his throat, bowing to her with much respect, his hands shaking and his heart thumping, but he feels like it isn’t enough. Chanyeol is struck with guilt and overwhelming regret once again, and before he knows it, he’s kneeling on the ground, close to tears.

“My name is Park Chanyeol,” he says in a quiet voice. “Baekhyun’s husband.”

The man who took this woman’s son away. Hurt him and betrayed him to an unspeakable extent. She acknowledges his presence with a quiet hum. Chanyeol keeps his gaze planted on the soiled ground, silently begging for forgiveness on her feet. 

“Five years of a marriage and not once have I ever seen your face.” She speaks the truth, looking disappointed and slightly happy all at once. “Stand up, dear. Come inside.” 

Chanyeol shakes his head multiple times. “I don’t deserve your welcoming warmth, Mrs Byun.”

“If you’re here to see Baekhyun, he’s not here.” She says, making him look at her in shock. “You can wait for him inside. He said he’ll come back.”

With the help of her shaky hand, he stands up from the ground. “But… where did he go?”

“He promised he’ll come back. Don’t worry, dear.” She replies, but doesn’t exactly answer his question. “I’ve waited for him for years, I can bear waiting for a few hours.” 

_ He can’t be alone _ , Chanyeol wants to argue. _Where is he?_

“Baekhyun’s father went to work, so you’re safe.” She laughs slightly, but Chanyeol can’t bring himself to say a few words. “Come, let’s wait for him inside.”

“No, Mrs Byun, wait,” he stops her. “I can’t. I need to find him.”

“Don’t you worry, he’s with a friend,” she says. “That man promised he’ll bring Baekhyun back—”

“He doesn’t _have_ friends!” Chanyeol finally exclaims exasperatedly, startling both the woman and himself with his loud tone. This time, he speaks softer. “I… I didn’t allow him to have any…”

With that, the woman stops moving. She turns to carefully look at Chanyeol now – the husband of her son, whose mouth hides plenty of secrets, one of them he already slipped out. The possessive monster who took her son away and kept him trapped. 

“All those years… Baekhyun didn’t choose to not come home, did he?” she suddenly accuses after a moment of horrified realization. “You didn’t _let_ him come home to me. To his own parents.”

Chanyeol’s mouth trembles at the truth that he can’t dare deny. She backs away, closing the gates and leaves him outside. He tries to approach her again, but he’s still frozen on the ground, unable to move.

“I made so many terrible mistakes,” he pleads, “Please… I regret all of them now. I didn’t know the boundary between love and possessiveness. I’m sorry for everything I did to you and your son.”

The woman stops walking, but she doesn’t spin around to face him.

“I do not expect you to forgive me, mother,” he whispers remorsefully. “But I need you to trust me this time. I need to find him. I regret letting him go. I can’t bear to lose him again.” 

“But when you’ve found him,” she slowly replies. “…What makes you think you won’t take him away from me again?” 

“Because…” he pauses. “Because now I know how much it hurts to have him being taken away from me. I know how it feels to not have him by my side. I would never let you go through the same pain again.” 

Baekhyun’s mother stays unmoving, full of reluctance and anger towards this stranger who used to mean a lot in her son’s life. 

“This may be too late to realize, but he is the love of my life,” Chanyeol’s voice breaks as he begs. “I don’t want to lose him again.”

—

Even when he’s lying on an unfamiliar bed, Baekhyun can still picture Chanyeol sleeping next to him. Sometimes, in his dreams, Chanyeol would press his rough palm onto Baekhyun’s cheek and smile. Sometimes, it’s his old law student boy from the past, cradling the piano boy’s head in his hands as they lay next to each other. Sometimes, it’s Park Chanyeol, a successful lawyer, who sleeps next to him with his hands on his sides and a frown on his face. Distant and extremely far even when they’re on the same bed. 

It’s Baekhyun who always tries to reach out now. To touch the skin of his husband’s clenched jaw and to feel his tensed posture relaxing. But even in deep sleep, Chanyeol would pull away when Baekhyun comes closer. Always so guarded and bothered like he’s lying beside a stranger. 

But now, Baekhyun is dreaming.

Chanyeol is asleep beside him, so near that Baekhyun actually feels his warmth pulling him closer. This time, when Baekhyun tries to reach out, his husband doesn’t leave. In this dream, he doesn’t have to beg Chanyeol to stay. Chanyeol is here, chest sturdy, breath rough and there’s a hand pulling Baekhyun closer to him on the mattress. Chanyeol softly cards his fingers in between Baekhyun’s locks, then settles the tip of his fingers just above his nape. It isn’t something that Chanyeol usually does.

His husband traces his fingers down Baekhyun’s back and Baekhyun uncomfortably shifts in his sleep because it’s so foreign. He can’t seem to picture Chanyeol’s smile, the really wide one that Baekhyun will always remember, and he can’t seem to imagine Chanyeol’s frown too. He’s just surrounded by darkness with Chanyeol’s hands gripping his waist, but Baekhyun doesn’t want to reach out for him this time. Perhaps it is Chanyeol, but it isn’t the man he fell in love with. 

Because when it comes to the man he loves, his hands roam, but they don’t intend to bruise. His hands don’t touch him this way – careless and harsh. Pulling at the bedsheets and leaving him in the cold. When Baekhyun dreams of Chanyeol, he tries to stay asleep, to remember each freckle on the man’s cheek, to ache to touch him without him pulling away. But this time… he finds himself trying his best to wake up. 

Chanyeol’s arms are ice cold when they wrap themselves around Baekhyun’s waist. Chanyeol isn’t warm anymore. It makes him jolt in surprise. He brings his hand up to feel his husband’s facial features underneath his fingertips, to trace the bump of his nose bridge, to search for warmth hidden somewhere in between the crook of Chanyeol’s neck. No words come out of Baekhyun’s mouth when he tries to call out for him. 

Chanyeol moves abruptly, tossing Baekhyun’s hand away before Baekhyun could touch his face. He slides on top of Baekhyun’s frozen figure, fingers travelling underneath Baekhyun’s clothes and everything’s just so cold, he’s shivering. For a moment, he sees Chanyeol’s clumsy law student smile and he sighs in relief, trying to touch Chanyeol again without being pushed away. But the smile falters and disappears the moment Baekhyun has his palm on the man’s sunken cheek. 

“Chanyeol…” he rasps.

His fingertips tremble when he traces the man’s nose and lips, stopping slightly when the man inhales harshly. Baekhyun instantly jolts awake when Chanyeol’s smile and eyes completely disappears. His hands shake when he realizes, fingertips stopping on the man’s furrowed eyebrows. _It isn’t him_.

Chanyeol doesn’t feel so cold like this. He doesn’t breathe Baekhyun in so harshly like this. He doesn’t grip tightly on Baekhyun’s body like this. 

It isn’t him. 

This isn’t him. 

“Yifan,” he says. 

The man above him chuckles, caressing his face. “Good guess.”

“What are you doing…?” his voice shakes as he tries to back away. “Why are you here?”

“This is my house, Baekhyun. I let you stay over.” Yifan says, then the cold hands around Baekhyun’s waist are gone. He can hear the bed creaking when Yifan stands and distances himself, but Baekhyun doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or concerned or… terrified. “Aren’t I nice?”

“Why were you on the bed with me?” he demands answers, gripping tightly at the bedsheets. “Why were you touching me?”

“I’m not Chanyeol,” the man grunts, footsteps getting further, but his presence is still loud in that room. “I’m not him. I won’t hurt you like he did.”

“You’re not answering my questions,” he murmurs. 

Yifan laughs softly. “That’s because you _know_ the answers…”

“No, I don’t.” Baekhyun replies, sitting up on the bed, fully awake now. “I want to go home.”

He hears Yifan scoffing loudly. “Home? To your husband who has been treating you like shit? That man?”

Baekhyun pauses, clenching his fists. “It’s none of your business, Yifan…”

“If only you can see, Baekhyun,” he freezes when he listens to Yifan’s footsteps and voice getting closer. “If you weren’t blind, you could’ve seen how much I deserve you. If only…”

“What are you talking about…?” he asks.

The other man in the room remains silent for too long. It makes Baekhyun’s hands tremble in anger and confusion. He can still hear the man’s footsteps, walking here and there, chuckling from time to time. Like this situation he’s trapped in is something hilarious. 

“These,” the man replies, throwing papers on his lap. Baekhyun winces when he gets a hold of torn, sharp edges. He traces the pads of his fingers on dull surface, brows furrowed with frustration when he feels nothing. 

Baekhyun flinches when Yifan touches his hand gently as the man returns to the bed, sitting next to him. There used to be a time when he trusted this man – but he can’t trust anyone now. Not this man sitting next to him, not his husband, not his mother, not even himself. 

“This is a picture of us after your first performance at the pub,” the man says. For a split second, he sounds like his normal self; genuine and honest, Baekhyun’s old friend. But then there’s that laugh of his again. A strangled laugh that lies in between pain and sorrow. “You did so well. I was so proud of you… I cherish this picture the most. Do you remember that moment, Baekhyun?”

He’s not sure where honesty will take him for he does remember, but he doesn’t remember taking a picture with Yifan or smiling next to him. He remembers the adrenaline of performing in front of a small crowd for the first time, pressing the keys of his piano, glancing at the women and men who are watching him perform in awe. He remembers the man who stands at the corner of the pub, looking awkward with his glass of beer. The way he clapped his hands so loudly after Baekhyun finished playing, it made him laugh. 

He remembers the law student boy. 

“This is a picture of you getting ready backstage…” Yifan interrupts his train of thoughts. “You were so handsome.” 

“Yifan,” he cuts the man off. “Stop this.”

“No,” Yifan says. “No, Baekhyun. Don’t tell me to stop. I’ve kept these pictures of you for too long. I kept them ever since the day I met you, Baekhyun. I need you to know about this, Baekhyun.”

“I’m married.” He stops the man from coming closer. “Yifan, you were married too… You loved your wife. Even after she passed away, you told me that you still loved her.”

“I was more than happy to end that marriage just for you.” He says, breath rugged. “Look at the things I did for you, Baekhyun.” 

He doesn’t realize that tears have fallen on his cheeks as his heart thumps with fear, yet he can’t seem to move. 

Complete silence embraces the room before Yifan speaks, sounding like he’s the one who’s terrified and confused. “Baekhyun?”

“What have you done?” he questions in a soft whisper. In disbelief. 

“I did what I had to do,” the man answers with a small voice.

“You told me that your wife died in a car crash, Yifan.” Baekhyun almost yells, demanding an explanation. His voice getting so loud it makes himself flinch. “What did you do?” 

“Don’t hate me, Baekhyun…” Yifan begs, holding onto his wrists. “You know I had to do it… For you. I did it for us.”

Baekhyun chokes on his tears as he recalls how much Yifan’s wife loved him. How much they loved each other. They were both his friends. Yifan wouldn’t have the heart to do this to them… would he?

“Oh god…” he cries in terror. “Stay away from me… You… Y-you…”

“Baekhyun, Baekhyun, Baekhyun…” the man chants, scrambling on the bed to get nearer to him. “Baekhyun, please… Baekhyun, wait…”

“Stay away from me!” he pushes the man, panicking when he falls off the bed. 

“Are you okay?” Yifan rushes to his side once more, grabbing at his face. “Baby?”

“Don’t call me that!” Baekhyun screams. “You’re a monster! A murderer! Get away from me!”

“I’m not going to hurt you! I’m not going to hurt you!” he pulls onto Baekhyun’s feet when he tries to get away. “Listen to me, Baekhyun. I will never hurt you. I love you so much, I will never, never hurt you.” 

“You killed her!” Baekhyun drags himself on the floor, trying to get hold of a glass. A book. Something. Anything. But there on the floors are only pictures and papers, scattered around for him to touch. 

“I had to…” the man sobs. “She had to get out of the picture for us to be together. I was so close, Baekhyun, I was so close to getting rid of Chanyeol, too… I tried. Don’t you want us to be together?”

Chanyeol.

Baekhyun stops thrashing against the floor, chest heaving up and down as he tries to catch a breath. “What did you just say?”

_ Chanyeol. _

“I didn’t mean to turn you blind, baby, don’t hate me… I just wanted to get rid of him.” Yifan hugs him by his knees, soaking Baekhyun’s pants with desperate tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry… I didn’t know you were in the car, too…”

Images of Chanyeol laughing with him in their car all those years ago flashes in his mind. His husband, with his hand in Baekhyun’s lap, smiling at him. Figuring out their first adopted child’s name. Driving to their dinner reservations. Chanyeol, looking at him with glinting eyes and red cheeks as Baekhyun grinned. _Jieun_ , they said together. Their future. Chanyeol’s smile. The jet-black car approaching them.

The crash. 

The darkness.

_ Chanyeol. _

Everything. 

* * *


	13. Marionette

Shivers run down his arms as cold water splashes about, leaving his sweater soaked. He tries to provide warmth to himself by hugging his arms, bringing his trembling knees to his chest, but his teeth clatter still. The old, wet sweater is heavy on his body, dragging him down in the tub when he has no more strength to hold himself up. The smell of artificial honey soap fills up the entire bathroom, but instead of soothing him, he feels terrified. Baekhyun remains silent, refusing to speak, refusing to acknowledge the man caressing his neck.

“There,” comes a small whisper against his skin. “Do you feel better now?”

Bare hands try to pull the sweater away from his shaking body, but that sweater was the only barrier that kept his pride safe, so he yanks himself away. Baekhyun keeps his hands over his chest, breathing heavily, cold and scared, tears on the verge of tracing down his damp cheek.

“Don’t,” he croaks out weakly. “Don’t touch me…”

Yifan pauses, holding onto his shoulder, before he lets go. “You would feel much more comfortable taking a bath if you took off your clothes.”

Baekhyun shakes his head, holding back a cry. “Please, I beg you… Please stay away from me.”

“Baekhyun—” Yifan struggles to keep Baekhyun in place when he flinches, thrashing the moment Yifan lays a hand on him. “Hey, hey, shh… It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. I told you before, Baekhyun… I would never hurt you.”

_ But you killed your wife,  _ Baekhyun bites back his words bitterly, _you tried to kill my husband. You hit us with a car. You tried to kill Chanyeol._

He turns away, sobbing quietly as spidery fingers undress him. Yifan removes Baekhyun’s final piece of clothing with an easy swoop, no longer bothered by the younger man’s constant thrashing. He hears Yifan exhaling shakily, tracing his hand down to Baekhyun’s bare stomach. Although the touch is gentle, he feels filthy beyond words, letting someone other than his husband touching him in such manner.

“I wish you can see how beautiful you look right now,” Yifan breathes out against his skin. The man dips his finger in Baekhyun’s navel, then run his fingers upwards.

“If you’re going to kill me,” he starts, venomous, unafraid. “You might as well just do it now. I have no will to live.”

“Don’t say that,” the older man hums, tipping Baekhyun’s chin up. “I’m not going to kill you. Never. Not when I love you so much, I could die.”

Baekhyun smirks with a dry laugh. “You told me you loved your wife, yet you killed her off. What makes you think you won’t do the same thing to me?”

“That was different.” The previously playful tone in Yifan’s voice morphs into something more serious, more sinister as he recalls his deceased wife. “She was nothing compared to you. She… No one can compare to you. She was just a hole to me.”

“You’re disgusting.” Baekhyun spits out. “You’re fucking sick.”

“I’m just telling you the truth,” the man squeezes his cheeks tightly, pulling him so close that Baekhyun can feel the man’s nose against his skin, breathing him in. “When I fucked her, I’d picture you. I had to, or else I wouldn’t get to finish. At first, imagining myself fucking you was enough… But eventually, I wanted more, so I fucked another man and tried to fantasize about you while I was doing it.”

Yifan places a kiss on the corner of his eye, leading down to his mouth before Baekhyun yanks himself away.

“But it wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough.” Yifan chuckles softly. “Do you get it now, Baekhyun? I did what I had to do.”

“So you wanna fuck me?” Baekhyun asks calmly. His trembling hands contradict his serene demeanor. “If that is all, then just do it already. I don’t fucking care anymore. Just fuck me and get it over with. Throw me out on the street when you’re done.” 

“Hey, but that’s not love, isn’t it…?” Yifan replies, pulling him by his shaky hand. He’s forced to stand in the tub, quivering when the older man rinses the foams of soap off his body. “I love you. I’ll keep you here in my home. I’ll take good care of you, feed you and bathe you. Soon, you’ll love me too, then… we can make love. Together.”

“Just the mere thought of that makes me want to vomit,” Baekhyun mutters under his breath. Wrapping his body with a towel, Yifan carries him out of the bathroom, rubbing his back as if to soothe. Baekhyun lies in the man’s arms lifelessly, emotional exhaustion having finally caught up to him. Still, in the back of his mind, faint images of a familiar smile remained.

Yifan dresses him up quietly, lifting his arms to fit into a loose shirt. Baekhyun feels a wave of sadness hitting him once more when he fully recalls to whom the handsome smile belonged to.

“Chanyeol…” Baekhyun murmurs quietly. “You didn’t hurt Chanyeol, did you? Where is he now? Is he… Is he safe?”

The older man pauses abruptly, sighing. “That man is the least of my concerns. Right now, you’re here in my arms, and another woman is probably in his.”

Baekhyun stiffens at the realization. How could he forget?

His husband had another lover, a fiancée. Now that Baekhyun is finally out of the picture, they must be more than delighted to live in that house. Would Chanyeol even care if he finds out that Baekhyun is in the arms of someone who tried to kill them?

Would Chanyeol even wonder how Baekhyun is feeling now that they are separated?

“You know I’m right,” Yifan coaxes, bringing him closer in his arms. Unceremoniously, he plops the weakened man down on his lap, running his fingers through dark locks of hair. “A husband? That man deserved no such title.”

Again, the silent tears start to fall. His body has given up on him after a long day of resisting the hold of a man whose hands killed an innocent. Baekhyun doesn’t hold back a cry this time, only sobbing against Yifan’s chest as he realizes that he was beyond help. After all this time, Baekhyun had no friends to call. His parents despised him still, and his husband had found another lover. There, Baekhyun laid, saddened and exhausted, eventually falling asleep in the arms of someone he couldn’t run away from no matter how hard he tried. 

At the end of the day, there was no one he could turn to.

—

“He’s about this… tall. He has brown hair, and he’d most likely hold onto his walking stick.”

The police officer stares at him as if he’s growing two heads, but who wouldn’t, when he’s been searching all over town for his missing husband? Walking on the streets with the shirt he’s worn for the past three days, stumbling over stones on the sidewalks, grabbing onto frightened strangers’ arms with widened, frantic eyes. Here, the powerful lawyer, Park Chanyeol stood, helpless and desperate, holding onto the officer’s hands with a tight grip.

“Please, you have to help me find him…” Chanyeol whispers to the disinterested officer. “He’s blind, so he couldn’t have gone too far…”

The police officer shakes Chanyeol’s grip off calmly, nodding. “We’ll try our best to find your husband, sir, but we can’t give you any promises—not when you can’t provide anything else other than a mere description of him.”

Chanyeol gasps, fishing his wallet out of his pocket. A picture of Jinah is the first item that greets him, her smoky eyes staring back at him, burning holes in the back of his head. He almost tears the wallet open in search of his missing husband’s picture, but all he manages to find are crumpled receipts of movie tickets and a warranty of his recently purchased engagement ring. Traces of his hidden lover occupy his wallet and phone, his entire belonging. Hints of his Baekhyun had gone missing after months of negligence.

“That—I…” Chanyeol stammers helplessly, swallowing. The officer raises a curious brow when he sees Chanyeol keeping his wallet back in his pocket. “I have his pictures at home—I’d have to look through our old photo albums…”

“I understand,” the man nods. “We’ll try to locate your husband as soon as possible. If you happen to find a recent picture of him, do hand it to us. In the mean time…”

The police officer takes a long look at his disheveled state with pity and a slight ounce of disgust, before he clears his throat.

“Please get some rest, sir. You seem like you haven’t slept in days.”

A little piece of Chanyeol’s heart cracks at the sight of the unfazed officer. Who was he kidding? The man didn’t even bother jotting down the details that Chanyeol had given him, only nodding along as Chanyeol rambled on about his husband’s appearance. Chanyeol lowers his head in defeat, almost missing the short glance that the other police officer sends in his way. She frowns, brows furrowed deeply as she gazes at him.

“What did you say your husband’s name was, sir?”

Chanyeol lifts his head up with a snap, blinking. “Baekhyun… His name is B-Byun Baekhyun.”

The woman purses her lips, ignoring the look that her co-worker gave her. “He sounds familiar.”

“Well…” the other officer coughs. “People are reported to be missing almost every day. We have unsolved missing children cases all over the city. The names are bound to be similar, especially when they’re common.”

“…I suppose that’s true,” she says with a light sigh. “Again, we’ll try our best to find your husband, sir. I’m sure that he’s safe and sound.”

“He must be,” Chanyeol breathes out, stumbling out of the police station carelessly.

_ He needs to be. _

The thought of his husband wandering all alone, confused, with no clue of his surrounding makes Chanyeol’s heart drop to his guts. He knows that if Baekhyun is unsafe and lost, or hurt beyond repair, Chanyeol could only blame himself for abandoning his husband in the first place, blinded by his lust and selfish needs. Ironically so, the thought of the woman who caused his infidelity has been on the back-burner for days now.

Chanyeol was dreading the journey of going back home. He knows for a fact that his lover would be there to greet him, beg for him to look at her again. She’d be on her knees, calling out for him, unbuckling his belt with hasty fingers. Tears would flood her cheeks when he refused to look at her, guilt so heavy on his shoulders that it made him feel numb when he laid his eyes on her. All he sees when he gazes at her is his own sins staring back at him.

In the corner of the living room, he’d see Baekhyun looking at them curiously, innocently. Hands resting on his knees, he’d tilt his head and stare at Chanyeol with pretty eyes that Chanyeol misses greatly. Chanyeol would try to reach out for him, to tell him that he had made a mistake, that she was no one in his life, that what he had with her couldn’t compare to their marriage.

“Baekhyun, I’m sorry… I’m sorry,” he’d apologize, weeping, falling to his knees to crawl to where his husband was sitting. Jinah would glare at him in disbelief, yelling at him with words that go mute on his ears each time he sees Baekhyun staring at him.

Soon after, Jinah would yell, shoving lamps, or glasses and plates in his way, shattering them carelessly as she releases her frustrations on her absent lover. 

Tonight, Chanyeol chooses to wander on the streets rather than returning home. Even when he’s not in the comfort of his own home, Chanyeol still sees Baekhyun everywhere, his face plastered on every single stranger’s faces as they walk by. As he stands under the street light, he sees Baekhyun emerging from a restaurant, yellow scarf hindering his face from being shown fully. His husband wraps his hands around another man’s arm, leaning closer for a kiss. 

Chanyeol’s legs tremble at the sight, before he runs off, shouting out for his husband. “Baekhyun! Baekhyun, please!”

He pulls the man by his hand, breathing heavily as he spins the man around in his hold. He only gets to see a glance of Baekhyun’s surprised smile for a split second before it fades, leaving him to look at a stranger who glares at him in anger.

“Get your hands off me,” the man snaps. “Crazy bastard.”

Chanyeol shakes his head, yanking himself out of his own trance. He staggers back, shocked. “I-I’m—I’m sorry…”

Ashamed, Chanyeol hides his face in his hands. Despite his perfect sight, Chanyeol staggers in the streets like a blind man, lost in the city, desperately searching for his missing husband. The people walking by send a few looks of pity before they continue on their day. His gaze follows their footsteps, where they lead him to a familiar lot on the corner of street. Nostalgic memories flood in his mind — and he recalls the nights where his eyes first met the most handsome man he had ever seen.

The young man stood nervously on the small stage, fidgeting with his hands before he made his way to the piano and started to pull on Chanyeol’s heartstrings. Chanyeol was only a boy back then, a bright-eyed, innocent law student with financial debt, who saw light in the eyes of Byun Baekhyun — the young singer in Wu Yifan’s pub.

Snapping out of his daydream, Chanyeol scrambles to stand from the dirtied ground as he rushes towards the open bar.

—

Baekhyun spits the last bits of food out of his mouth, pulling away from the man holding onto his chin. He hears Yifan sighing, wiping the corner of his lips with a warm cloth before he pries Baekhyun’s mouth open again. Baekhyun’s heart wavers in fear as the man traces his thumb on Baekhyun’s lips, pausing slightly before he resumes to feed him.

“Don’t spit it out this time,” the older man tells him. “You haven’t eaten the entire day. I’m starting to get a little worried. Does the food taste _that_ bad?”

“Leave me alone,” Baekhyun grumbles, turning his head away as he clamps his own mouth shut. “I don’t want to eat.”

“But you have to,” Yifan whines. “Please? I don’t want you to get all skinny… I’ll be sad if you do.”

He spits again, pushing the older man’s hands away from him before he pulls his knees to his chest, hiding his face completely. Though he no longer cries now — he had run out of tears the night Yifan forcefully pulled him into his embrace, undressed him despite his objection.

“Baby,” a hint of panic coats the other man’s voice as he tries to hold onto Baekhyun’s hands, pressing light kisses on his palms. “Are you—a-are you mad at me?”

Baekhyun stays silent, afraid that anything he says might cause the older man to snap. He flinches when Yifan trails his mouth up to his arm, reaching his elbow. He stops there, nuzzling his cheek against Baekhyun’s skin. “Are you mad because I’m forcing you to eat…?”

The man takes a slight pause.

“…Or are you thinking about Chanyeol?”

His heart stops at the mention of his unfaithful husband, and for a moment, his throat goes dry. He swallows before he mumbles quietly. “I don’t care about him anymore.”

He could feel the shape of Yifan’s smirk against his skin.

“But leave him alone,” Baekhyun continues. The tears that he thought were long gone are coming back to him swiftly now. “He doesn’t want me anymore, so there’s no reason for you to harm him. He wants nothing to do with me.”

“I’m glad,” Yifan lets out a chuckle. “It was stupid of him to let you go, but to my benefit… I have to say that he made the right choice. If he held onto you any longer, I would have to kill him, too.”

Instead of crying out and cursing him, Baekhyun lets out a laugh. He feels Yifan’s frozen grip on him tightening.

“…What’s so funny?”

Would Chanyeol ever hold onto him?

The last time they fought, Chanyeol had left him hanging, abandoning their shared home to run after his fiancée who had walked out. The last time they’ve spoken to one another, Chanyeol had willingly let him go, willingly returned him to the hands of his parents who no longer considered him as their son. Baekhyun couldn’t help but laugh. 

Chanyeol wouldn’t hold onto him — not even when Baekhyun desperately wanted him to.

Instead of giving an explanation, Baekhyun sits and thinks. Like a marionette, he lets Yifan feed him, cradling his face carefully as if he’d break.

“You love me, huh?” Baekhyun asks quietly, lifting his head up. He feels Yifan moving on the mattress, leaning closer to him, touching his cheek. “Do you really?”

“Yes,” the man answers without a doubt. He could feel the breath of excitement released against his face. “Yes, I love you.”

This man is dangerous, Baekhyun repeats to himself. He can’t deny it any longer — in the arms of such man, Baekhyun is no longer safe. This would be a dangerous game to play, it might even cause him his own life, but Baekhyun had no reason to continue living any longer.

It’s worth a shot.

“If you love me, you’d do whatever I want you to do…” he reaches his hand out, searching for the older man. Yifan’s breath hitches when Baekhyun’s slender fingers finally reach up to his neck, trailing to his face. He gently presses his fingertips on the tip of the man’s nose, moving down to his lips. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” Yifan breathes shakily. “Only if you’ll still stay here with me, then I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”

“Okay,” he nods. “Good.”

“What is it that you want me to do?”

Gathering his courage, Baekhyun moves closer. Despite how disgusted he feels when this man lays his hands on him, Baekhyun places his hands on the older man’s shoulders, feigning seduction. “I want to play the piano.”

Yifan stops, then laughs. “Is that all? Of course you can, baby.”

He shakes his head, chuckling darkly. “I want to learn to play the piano again. My lessons with Jisoo aren’t finished. I want to continue.”

Yifan hums as his hands wander about under Baekhyun’s sweater. Sensing his hesitation, Baekhyun continues. “He can come over here every weekend, can’t he? I know that you have a piano in the living room. You can even watch us play.”

Clenching his eyes shut, Baekhyun lowers himself on the man’s lap, resting their foreheads together. Under his palm, he feels the man’s heart starting to beat erratically with each touch. Yifan grows weak in his hands, sighing as Baekhyun runs his fingers through the man’s hair.

“I-I’ll…” Baekhyun hesitates, shaking. A wave of shame washes over him. He feels as if he no longer has a sense of dignity within himself. “I’ll… I’ll let you make love to me if you do this…”

“Okay,” Yifan finally relents. “Okay, baby. Anything you want.”

Baekhyun exhales in relief, clenching his fists in the older man’s shirt. “Don’t forget to tell him about it, then…”

_ Don’t forget. _

_ He’s my only hope now.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can't believe i'm updating this after what felt like YEARS of not touching E4SE at all.  
> to think that is started this fic when i was 15, and i'm 19 now... i'm so sorry for leaving my readers hanging for so long.
> 
> i'm sorry if this chapter was a bit triggering, or if it made you uncomfortable.  
> i'll try to not dwell on baekhyun's situation with yifan for too long.
> 
> i've only recently started cross-posting on ao3, so i hope E4SE will receive some love on this site too!
> 
> please do leave a comment!


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